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CLAUDIA DANVILLE 



THE 

FRUIT OF FOLLY 


11 #, 

BY 

VIOLET CRAIG 


“Frailty, thy name is woman! ” 

HAMLET 



NEW YORK 

THE MACAULAY COMPANY 

1913 


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.< 2 3^31 

V 


Copyright, 1913, by 
THE MACAULAY CO. 





THE SCHILLING PRESS 
NE^V YORK. 

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$ / % Z*r* 

©CI.A8 5 06 40 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Unlooked-for Kiss 9 

II Her Husband’s Wife 35 

III Awakening 46 

IV The Primrose Path 58 

V The Impressionable Crawford ... 82 

VI The Dawn of Love 105 

VII A Fool’s Paradise 146 

VIII Threatening Clouds 155 

IX Loved and Lost 206 

X Youth Will Be Served 216 

XI The Way of a Man 223 

XII Love Unquenched 236 

XIII A Woman’s Frailty 241 

XIV Discovery 249 

XV All in Vain .... M M t . . . 266 

XVI The Reckoning . . M M . *. .271 



\ 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 



THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


CHAPTER I 

THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 

O love! O fire! once he drew 

With one long kiss my whole soul through 

My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. 

Tennyson. 

The sun had disappeared; but the distant 
hills, the furthest clouds, still reflected a last 
dying gleam of rose, like a tender souvenir. 
Pale twilight was passing over the heavens, 
and suddenly, in the west, over a violet- 
capped mountain, there rose a deep red light, 
like the flames of a great fire in the distance. 

Mrs. Danville trembled with indefinable 
agitation. She looked at Crawford, sitting 
by her side, and her lips parted, as though 
she were about to say something in a whisper. 
But his clear eyes were gazing into her own. 

9 


IO THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

For a second she remained motionless. Then, 
softly, gently, without knowing why, she 
lowered her eyelids. 

And she only gave a long sigh of consent 
when she felt the lips of Crawford quivering 
on her own, in a silent, instinctive kiss. 

“ To-morrow, at two o’clock, in the Chapel 
of the old Basilica!” he murmured, as he 
heard the footsteps of Danville, who was re- 
turning with his daughter, Louise. . . . 
“To-morrow, I beseech you! . . .” 

“ What did I tell you? ” cried Danville, 
pointing to the west, and indicating the great 
moon, which hung like a scarlet balloon be- 
tween the violet mountain tops. “We shall 
be able to see as plainly as if it were day- 
light!” 

Earlier in the afternoon of that autumn 
day the sky was clear and bright; September 
was changing the woods from green to gold 
and a light breeze fanned the foreheads of 
the passers-by, making walking a sheer de- 
light. 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS n, 


Four people were strolling thus carelessly 
down a white, straight road, shaded by tall 
spruce trees. Behind them rose the spires 
and battlements of Quebec, like a dream-city 
in the azure distance ; whilst before them lay 
the vista of the St. Lawrence Valley. 

It was a Sunday. From time to time 
habitants passed the little group of four, clad 
in rustic costume. 

“Bon jourl bon jour!” they said, in bold 
and sonorous accents. 

And from nearly all the houses scattered 
along the roadside there rose a column of 
smoke, exhaling an odor of roast poultry or 
pork. 

The four companions slowly wended their 
way down the road, chatting together gayly 
and light-heartedly. They were two men and 
two women, four well-dressed, enthusiastic 
New Yorkers, who had been roaming about 
Quebec for some days, — Louis Danville and 
his wife, Claudia, their daughter Louise, their 
friend Roger Crawford. Louis Danville was 
the junior member of a New York banking 
house ; while Roger Crawford was the young 


12 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 
composer, already the possessor of a certain 
reputation, whose melody, “ The Song of the 
Roses ” had for the past two years charmed 
the hearts of young women endowed with 
beautiful forms, who like to display their 
emotions to the accompaniment of moving 
strains of music by the graceful rise and fall 
of an ample bosom. 

These four companions of the road were 
not united by the bonds of old acquaintance. 
Their friendship was of quite recent date. 
Twenty-four hours before they had scarcely 
known each other. They had met in this 
way. On the lawn of the Chateau Frontenac, 
where she was strolling up and down with her 
husband and daughter, Claudia Danville had 
remarked the previous evening: “ Louis, 
look at that dark young man who has just 
passed us! ” Louis Danville had obeyed, and 
exclaimed : 

“ I know him! It is a man you danced with 
last winter! ” 

“ Oh! yes, so it is! ” Claudia had replied. 

“ Crandall, I think his name is.” 

“ Crawford ! ” his wife corrected. “ A 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 13 

clever composer. Bow to him, Louis.” And 
as the young man had turned his eyes in their 
direction, Mrs. Danville had bent her head 
with a welcoming smile, whilst her husband, 
with a friendly glance, had removed his hat, 
and Roger Crawford, surprised at his recog- 
nition, and unable to imagine who the un- 
known friends, encountered six hundred miles 
away from New York, could possibly be, went 
up to them with outstretched hand, a pleased 
expression, and a joyful gleam in his eyes. 
After a few commonplace remarks to jog re- 
fractory memories, they had strolled along the 
grass together for two or three hundred yards, 
discussing holidays, commerce, and art, and 
in the end the Danvilles had invited their new 
friend to lunch for the next day, Sunday. 
Crawford had accepted. 

And after this lunch, which had been served 
in the Danvilles’ own rooms by a servant they 
had brought with them from New York, 
Crawford, considering the sun was warm, his 
host a man of wit and intelligence, his hostess 
an exceedingly pretty woman, and the country 
attractive, had eagerly welcomed the sugges- 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


14 

tion of a drive up the picturesque valley of the 
St. Lawrence. 

They had started out with no fixed destina- 
tion in view. But on the way Danville had 
boasted of his Canadian extraction — his 
great, great-grandfather, D’Anville by name, 
had been a colonel under General Montcalm 
— and to prove it he proposed that they should 
drive to Beauport, the village where his 
grandfather was born, and whose marvels he 
had long desired to point out to his family. 

“Very well!” came the general assent. 
“ Forward! Beauport let it be! ” 

For an hour they drove rapidly on, towards 
a round hill visible upon the horizon. 

“It is there, just behind the hill! We 
should be there in twenty minutes! ” said Dan- 
ville. “ The view is splendid from that point. 
Nothing in Eastern Canada can compare with 
that!” 

Louis Danville was forty years of age. He 
was tall, fair, and strong. His grave voice 
had a noble accent, and loyalty shone forth 
from his clear eyes. He wore his hair close- 
cut, and his beard pointed; his skin was white, 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 15 

his mouth red. He looked, perhaps, too mild 
not to be a little violent, and too skeptical, un- 
doubtedly, not to be a little ingenuous, on oc- 
casion. To sum up, he looked a thoroughly 
good sort, one of those good fellows whom 
men are at once attracted to. 

His wife, Claudia, was thirty-one. But it 
was necessary to see her daughter in order to 
believe it. Thanks to the animation in her 
eyes, the mobility of her features, the playful- 
ness of her speech, and the suppleness of her 
movements, Claudia Danville looked as though 
she were still in her first youth, and she dis- 
concerted her new friends when she confessed 
to more than twenty-five years. She was of 
medium height, and well made, though one 
had not always leisure to observe the fact. 
She was one of those women whose faces rob 
their figures, as it were, of the attention due 
to them. 

In a man’s eyes a woman possesses some cen- 
ter of attraction, which varies considerably. 
For one man it is her bust or her hips, for an- 
other her shoulders; very few find it in her 
face. But Claudia Danville happened to be 


i6 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


the very striking exception which proves the 
rule. It seemed impossible to take one’s eyes 
off her head and face. The creamy complex- 
ion, and hair of darkest brown, were illumined 
by a wonderful pair of eyes, dull gold in hue, 
eyes which seemed the quintessence of the sun. 
The forehead was wide, and left quite bare, 
no artificial waves or curls broke its contour; 
the mouth, powerful and mobile, with no af- 
fected contraction of the lips; the chin, small 
and slender, forming two delicate curves. 
And from the whole face there emanated so 
subtle a gleam of intelligence and character 
that the rest of the body seemed plunged in 
shadow, and it sometimes needed long mo- 
ments of observation before the exquisite lines 
of the snow-white throat and beautifully- 
molded bust w r ere revealed. 

Mrs. Danville had been married fifteen 
years, and the early blonde development of 
her daughter Louise, made the latter look like 
her little sister. 

Roger Crawford, who was sitting with Mrs. 
Danville, was a most absolutely “ correct ” 
young man. He confessed to twenty-six or 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 17 

twenty-seven years of age. Dark, slender, and 
self-composed, his gray eyes, full of mystery, 
invariably compelled the interest of women. 
He had the faculty of always looking exceed- 
ingly well-dressed, without appearing foppish. 
He had very dark hair, which was cut very 
short at the back, but was treated more 
leniently in front, and on his pale forehead 
there occasionally strayed a wavy lock of hair, 
which showed a discreet tendency to curl. 
His mustache was slight, and there was a red 
gleam in the carefully-pointed ends, and his 
powerful chin was destitute of any beard ; his 
curved mouth was red and humid ; whilst the 
square jaw, surmounting the vigorous neck, 
gave to his calm countenance a serene, trium- 
phant charm, which was as disturbing to 
woman-kind as it was awe-inspiring to young 
men. 

But the general impression produced by his 
peculiar physiognomy was that of perfect im- 
passiveness. He spoke slowly, in a musical, 
childlike voice, which had a far-away me- 
lodious sound. His actions, too, were tran- 
quil, his every gesture supple and premedi- 


1 8 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY* 

tated, full of indolent enjoyment; and it was 
perhaps in this apparent inertia, which gave 
him the victorious air of a worshiped idol, 
that the secret of his strength lay. He was 
one of those men of whom the more beautiful 
half of humanity thinks: “What a demi- 
god!” 

It was about half-past four. The sun was 
traveling slowly towards the south-west, be- 
tween great banks of light clouds. 

There was a sudden bend in the road, re- 
vealing, at the further end, the village of 
Beauport, half-green, half-gold, looking really 
beautiful with its rows of slender poplars, its 
picturesque, red-roofed dwellings, and its old 
church'tower, whose tall black cross stood out 
against the clear sky. 

“ There it is,” said Danville, with a proud 
smile. 

And he indicated the scene with a sweep of 
the arm, as if he would take the little hamlet 
into his embrace. 

“ Let’s go up to Montmorency Falls! ” Dan- 
ville exclaimed, and looked inquiringly at the 
others, who agreed. 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 19 

Accordingly, they passed on until Beauport 
was left behind and they skirted an open 
stretch of field and woodland on either side. 
Toward the St. Lawrence, which lay broad 
and blue between them and the richly wooded 
Isle of Orleans, Danville pointed out a white 
mansion on a commanding point, just above 
the Montmorency Falls, which was once occu- 
pied by his forefathers. 

Beyond the river and the Isle of Orleans the 
low, blue hills appeared, while before the eye 
and to the left rose the noble outlines of the 
Laurentian Mountains, flecked with passing 
gleams of soft light and violet shadow. 

Crossing a shaky wooden bridge, beneath 
which the narrow river dashed itself over its 
rocky bed, and sang a fairy song as it flung 
itself onward toward the sea, the merry party 
drove a few hundred yards to a small country 
inn, where they alighted. 

They walked on a little further along the 
road to the gate to the pathway leading to the 
Falls. 

“ This way! ” cried Danville. 

He waited for the composer, took him by 


20 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

the arm, and explained the nature of his hap- 
piness: 

“ It was on this little mountain the family 
tree of Danville grew, my dear sir; that should 
enable you to understand my enthusiasm.” 

And he went on to relate how his ancestor 
who had fought under Montcalm had settled 
there and grown rich after fifty years of stub- 
born toil. 

He looked at his wife, who was walking be- 
side him again, and Claudia gave him a very 
tender smile, and a very sweet and gentle look, 
charged with emotion. And Crawford, sur- 
prising both look and smile, concluded that 
the pair adored each other, and acquired the 
conviction that some few privileged beings 
exist in this world for whom fifteen years of 
union have not entirely exhausted the treasures 
of love. 

“ Admire my beautiful fellow-country- 
women, Mr. Crawford!” 

Danville indicated a group of sunburnt 
girls, whose gayly colored skirts flickered 
amidst the foliage. 

Just then, in the distance, a rudimentary 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 21 


orchestra struck up a polka, and Danville un- 
derstood now why it was that all along the 
road they had traversed most of the houses 
had exhaled such a violent odor of good cheer. 

“Why, it’s the feast of St. Michael!” he 
said. “ Seognac, the neighboring town, is cele- 
brating the feast of its patron saint. For three 
days half the habitants are drunk, and three- 
quarters of the women-kind are demented. 
The baptismal fonts won’t be lying idle in an- 
other year’s time! ” 

“ But it is disgraceful, horrible! ” said his 
wife. “ What an idea to bring civilized 
people to such places ! ” 

Other groups of girls appeared, marking 
the vast wooded hill with splashes of color — 
red, blue, and yellow. They wore coquettish 
silk ribbons in their hair, and their ample 
skirts, straight and simply cut, their old- 
fashioned bodices, quite free of any useless 
ornament or dishonest padding, revealed right 
loyally their flat hips, thick waists, and bosoms. 

Here and there groups of young men 
knocked up against them, the shock making 
the girls shriek with joy. Occasionally the 


22 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


groups of boys and girls stood still; then in- 
termingled, and with no signs of mock 
modesty, some of the excited girls moved off, 
leaning against their great courting louts, 
whose eyes were alight with strange, suspi- 
cious gleams. And prolonged shouts rose 
from the thick bushes, those triumphant shouts 
which are only heard on the lips of peasant 
folk, which are a sort of human neighing, very 
strange and abandoned, like the conqueror’s 
flourish of triumph. 

Claudia had never heard such shouts, but 
something in the depths of her being revealed 
their significance, and with crimsoning cheeks, 
she grew alarmed for Louise, and asked her 
husband: 

“ Could we not find some means of avoid- 
ing this spectacle?” 

Danville felt constrained to defend his com- 
patriots. “ They were such good souls, so 
hard-working and austere, and for three hun- 
dred and sixty-two days of the year their lot 
was such a hard one.” 

Wine and pleasure filled the very air. The 
noisy, chattering laborers were drinking 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 23 

heavily, swearing loudly, and hurling vulgar 
epithets at one another. Beneath the trees 
some wrinkled old men were solemnly empty- 
ing, with trembling elbows, their bottle of 
high-wine, as the habitant terms his favorite 
fiery tipple. With half-closed eyes and al- 
most speechless, they were going into raptures 
over their intoxication, and drinking enough 
in this one day to satisfy their twelve months’ 
thirst. 

Suddenly, round a turn in the path, Mrs. 
Danville almost stumbled over a young girl, 
who was kissing a man full on the mouth. 

Claudia drew back in disgust. 

“ By the soul of my body! ” exclaimed the 
country girl, with a loud laugh. “ She ought 
to be so mighty particular, the pretty doll with 
her two pretty men ! ” 

But Danville all at once changed the route, 
and left the narrow, winding pathway, with 
its stream of habitants dressed in their Sunday 
best. 

“ Let us cut across here,” he said, pointing 
the way. 11 We shan’t meet anyone, and we 
shall get there just as soon.” 


24 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY* 

“ Are you sure we can reach it that way? ” 
remarked Crawford. 

“Oh! I know the mountain as well as my 
own hand ! ” 

And the immaculate shoes had to contend 
with sharp, jagged rocks, and the dainty skirts 
became entangled in masses of hostile thorns. 

“What a serious pleasure party we are!” 
said Claudia, as her delicate feet came in too 
close contact with the sharp stones. 

And she began to struggle with the brambles 
which were threatening ruin to her dainty 
coiffure. 

But after they had walked on for another 
thirty yards or so, they could not, for very 
shame, have turned back. And so they con- 
tinued the ascent. 

Now and then they caught a glimpse of 
slender, snowy streams of foam descending 
over the dark, rocky precipice. Those were 
the outlying stragglers of the great Fall, and 
as beautiful in themselves, as some Swiss cas- 
cades, one of them looking like braided 
threads of molten silver as it fell over the jut- 
ting rocks. 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 25 

Soon they came out upon the bank, fringed 
with hemlock, spruce and wild flowers, from 
the top of which a flight of wooden stairs led 
down. And there the main Fall hung in full 
view, as it made a sheer plunge down the preci- 
pice, a mass of snowy foam in mad, headlong 
rush. 

“Look! Oh! look Claudia!” exclaimed 
Danville. 

With eager gesture he pointed to the trees, 
the rocks, the flowers, the whole landscape. 
He experienced an infinite sense of delight in 
this excursion. He had long been promising 
himself this intimate joy, this bliss of wander- 
ing over the soil he loved, of visiting the scenes 
which had so many tender associations for 
him. One of the greatest joys that lovers may 
experience consists in showing each other the 
scenes amidst which they once lived before 
meeting the beloved. During the last fifteen 
years Danville had never managed to find time 
to take his wife to this romantic region, and 
his voice quivered as he indicated well-remem- 
bered landmarks, named the different vil- 
lages, made them familiar with the plants and 


26 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


wild flowers which grew in such luxuriant 
profusion, and pointed out the various houses. 
All that he encountered on this hillside 
possessed for him an almost fraternal tender- 
ness of association, and he experienced a pro- 
found sense of happiness at the sight of a fa- 
miliar rock or tree. He walked on rapidly, 
climbing higher, dragging Louise along with 
him, whilst Crawford offered his arm to 
Claudia, when the way became more difficult 
than usual. And Danville went into endless 
raptures, with the artless candor of a child, 
with words of deep emotion for his native land 
ever on his lips, with adoration ever in his 
eyes for whatsoever grew thereon. 

And he involuntarily communicated his en- 
thusiasm to his companions. They grew quite 
excited over the scenery. “ Marvelous! ” be- 
came the unanimous and oft-repeated verdict. 

Claudia’s cheeks were flushed with pleasure, 
her eyes shone. The hard walking quickened 
the adorable rhythmic rise and fall of her 
bosom. The starlike eyes of Roger Crawford 
occasionally forgot to admire the beauties of 
the landscape. Louise gathered wild flowers, 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 27 

and her father toiled on indefatigably, throw- 
ing out occasionally precious information to 
the tourists, such as : — 

“ Take care! Mind that rock! ” 

Or: — 

“ Put your foot on that root! Cross this 
Stream just here ! ” 

The sun was setting and seemed to shed a 
rosy veil over the joyous forest beneath. 
Claudia Danville’s eyelids drooped occasion- 
ally upon her dazzled eyes. 

Here and there were enchanting little nooks, 
and poplar dells, the straight branches with 
the autumn-yellow leaves pointing upwards to 
the sky like tall golden spires. 

And whilst Mrs. Danville gazed and mar- 
veled and uttered exclamations of admiration, 
she was no doubt telling herself that she was 
a very happy and a very fortunate woman, 
that life certainly has its delightful moments, 
and that Louise was a pretty little girl of 
whom she might well be proud, that Louis was 
a very exceptional husband, tender, devoted, 
and good. 

And she thought of her friends in New 


28 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

York, who were jealous of her from their very 
souls. And she told herself, too, that upon 
this particular day, at all events, they had every 
reason to be envious of her. 

In all probability these were the subtle ele- 
ments which entered into that state of lan- 
guorous felicity that Claudia Danville experi- 
enced as she looked at the trees and rocks, as 
she listened to the murmur of the streams, as 
she felt the warm glow of the sun upon her 
shoulders. 

And having reached a spot that was literally 
carpeted with sweet wild flowers, she stooped 
to gather some; then fastened one into her 
husband’s buttonhole, and another into Craw- 
ford’s; then she kissed Louise on both her 
fresh young cheeks, and that for no plausible 
reason, and without any explanation, though 
no one was surprised by the impulsive, and in 
Claudia Danville, most unaccountable action; 
for at such a time and in such a place she 
might have begun to sing, or to play hide-and- 
seek, or to look for nests in the trees, or to do 
anything else, either foolish or unusual, and 
no one would have been shocked, — everything 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 29 

would have been considered perfectly logical 
and natural. 

There is an intoxication in Nature which 
has touched even the coldest heart at least 
once during its lifetime ; and there are ways of 
speaking, of acting, of loving, which are quite 
simple and natural beneath the setting sun or 
at the foot of a silent beech, but which would 
be considered absurd in a drawing-room be- 
neath the shades of palms in costly art pots. 

Meanwhile, the ascent was becoming more 
and more difficult, until at last it seemed well- 
nigh impossible to advance another step. 

But Danville would not hear of their giving 
it up. 

“ We shall be at the top before sunset,” he 
promised them, “ and we will return by the 
road. I think it will be full moon to-night, 
and when we drive back to the city it will be 
as light as day. We shall dine at half-past 
seven, as usual, and have a rather better appe- 
tite, that is all!” 

All the same, in spite of his high enthu- 
siasm, he was very glad of Crawford’s help- 
ing hand now and again, for he was getting 


3 o THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

tired, and the young maestro’s cool energy 
seemed exhaustless. 

Claudia shuddered as she watched the rapid 
setting of the sun. Perhaps these wooded 
dells were haunted by wild beasts 1 Already 
she had uttered a startled cry upon discover- 
ing a small snake between two stones. And 
she had nervously grasped Crawford’s hand 
when he came to her aid. 

The young man now seemed to have become 
responsible for the transport of the whole 
family. He first climbed up alone, helping 
himself with his cane, and explored the neigh- 
borhood. When he had discovered a square 
yard of favorable ground, where it was pos- 
sible to stand in something approaching an up- 
right position, he returned to his companions, 
and then came to the aid, first of Louise, then 
of her mother, and finally of Danville him- 
self, who wiped his forehead with an intrepid 
gesture, crying enthusiastically : — 

“ Heavens! Isn’t it just magnificent here? 
Isn’t it splendid? ” 

“Superb!” declared Crawford, who was 
exploring a little further on. 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 31 

He carried abundant proof of masculine 
strength, of incredible skill, and indefatigable 
devotion. He made a descent of fifteen yards 
to recover Louise’s sunshade, which had 
slipped from her hand; and he lacerated one 
of his hands in grasping a thorny bush to pre- 
vent Claudia from losing her balance. 

“Victory!” shouted the husband. “Here 
we are at last! ” 

And every face was illumined with joy. 

At that moment Claudia uttered a long ex- 
clamation of enthusiasm. 

“ Oh! look, look! ” she said. 

And her eyes grew wide with boundless 
admiration. 

At their feet stretched the endless rolling 
plain, bathed in a rose and purple haze, and 
the evening light seemed to cover it with in- 
cense. And between two gigantic black rocks 
the St. Lawrence appeared in the distance, 
whilst the sun sank into it as into a huge 
purple bath. 

For a long moment the four travelers stood 
motionless, their lips parted in contemplation 
and surprise. 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


32 

“ Let us hurry,” said Danville, his voice 
quite husky with emotion. 

A few more steps brought them to a little 
pebbly road terminating in an impasse on the 
steep edge of the hill, at the end of which 
a square stone did duty for a rustic bench. 

He led his companions to this stone, and, 
laying his hands on his wife’s shoulders gently, 
he made her turn round. 

“ Look! ” he said, his lips trembling with 
pride, “ Look! ” 

Claudia obeyed, and over towards the north 
she saw the long chain of the Laurentians, 
which raised to the magnificent azure of the 
heavens a vast monotony of orange crests. 

The sun was setting. Its red disc sank 
down upon the distant water, and at this fugi- 
tive contact of river and sky, a mass of clouds, 
vermilion in hue, seemed to soar towards the 
sky like a strange, fantastic vapor. 

“ Let us go to the tower,” said Danville. 
“ We can go in and climb to the top, and from 
there the view will be still more beautiful.” 

As he spoke, he started toward the rude stone 


THE UNLOOKED-FOR KISS 33 
tower, which lay hidden in the shadow of a 
giant beech. 

“ I am quite tired out! I can’t walk an- 
other step!” declared Claudia. “You can 
come and look for me here when you are 
ready,” she said, as she sank down upon the 
stone seat. 

Danville went off with Louise and Craw- 
ford sat down by Claudia’s side. But the lat- 
ter did not appear to notice the fact. She was 
quite drowsy with fatigue. A strange, inde- 
finable giddiness seemed to have overtaken 
her, both in body and soul. She gazed at the 
river, at the mountains, at the clouds, without 
a word. The air seemed different on this 
grass-grown height; never had her lungs been 
filled with air so sweet, so rare. Below her, 
where the white road lay, little black specks 
were visible, which were really men. And in 
the nearer distance those forms walking to- 
gether, two by two, down the paths of the hill- 
side, were boys and girls whose manners had 
so shocked her an hour ago. And Claudia 
did not feel in the least surprised at the sight 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


34 

of these furtive couples. She saw humanity 
in a different perspective, as it were, from this 
altitude, she looked upon them all with eyes 
soft with generous sympathy. 

She experienced a thousand strange, indefin- 
able sensations. She was both very happy, 
and very sad. Somewhere within her being 
sentiments hitherto unknown were born, senti- 
ments which in a vague way she felt she would 
never have known had she remained down 
there, in the valley, on the same level as other 
women. She was not quite sure whether she 
was entirely the same person; a new heart 
seemed to have entered her body; these trees, 
this caressing breeze, had filled her with a 
confused, mysterious sensation of indefinable 
hope and inexplicable felicity. 

Then came Crawford’s kiss, clinging upon 
her answering lips. 


CHAPTER II 

HER HUSBAND’S WIFE 

Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 

Even such a woman oweth to her husband. 

The Taming of the Shrew. 

Claudia Danville had never deceived her 
husband. She was a scrupulously virtuous 
woman, who would have remained faithful to 
the wifely vows through a sense of duty, if not 
through love. 

Her parents had brought her up most aus- 
terely. She had seldom had any but very old 
governesses, and very young girl friends, in 
order that she might not receive bad examples 
from the former, nor dangerous confidences 
from the latter. Her education had been su- 
pervised by the high-church rector of St. 
Paul’s, who was her great-uncle on the mater- 
nal side. Indeed, Claudia did not enter so- 
ciety until after her marriage. 

35 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


36 

She lost her father when she was four years 
of age; at fifteen she lost her mother. It was 
partly on this account that she had been mar- 
ried, at sixteen, to Louis Danville, to whom the 
defunct mamma had bestowed her daughter. 

In those days Claudia was very religious. 
Every week she went to her great-uncle to con- 
fess ; and she often thought of the sharp reply 
the good man had once made to a young 
girl : — 

“You do not believe in God? So much 
the worse for your future husband 1 ” 

After a few years of married life, however, 
Claudia herself did not believe so very much 
in the good God of her childhood. She no 
longer went to Communion, save once a year ; 
she did not go to Mass every Sunday; and at 
last, having spent a long winter season abroad, 
she forgot to present herself at the Easter ex- 
amination of consciences ; and since that time 
she had given it up altogether. But she still 
made a practice of attending the service occa- 
sionally, the days of pomp and ceremony, to 
listen to the swell of the organ, and inhale the 
perfume of the incense, to admire the priests in 


HER HUSBAND’S WIFE 


37 

their resplendent robes, and above all to study 
the toilettes of certain aristocratic ladies. 

Nevertheless, Danville never had any reason 
to complain. The good rector of St. Paul’s 
had been mistaken. 

For fifteen years Claudia cherished a con- 
stant and exclusive love for her husband. No 
doubt the love yearnings of the first days had 
been satisfied, the fleeting curiosity of the 
senses had vanished forever. But in her heart 
there still refnained the same faithful ardor; 
and no man, handsome or young, celebrated or 
powerful, whom she might happen to en- 
counter, ever aroused in her even a passing 
thought. 

Very few men, moreover, had ever paid her 
really serious court. 

There is a sort of negative electricity, as it 
were, between virtuous people; and it might 
be safely said that women, no matter how 
beautiful they may be, have no adorers save 
when they themselves wish to have them, and 
encourage their attentions. 

So Claudia displayed her pretty shoulders 
in society like the rest of the women, and 


38 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

danced freely and light-heartedly with the 
men. 

“ She is lovelyl ” the men said sometimes 
among themselves. But they never dared say 
as much to Claudia herself. 

The most heroic conquerors do not under- 
take improbable victories ; and a lackey must 
be a Spaniard, at least, to venture to fall in 
love with a queen. Therefore Mrs. Danville 
displayed her white throat and shoulders with 
impunity, for virtue protects far more effectu- 
ally than even ugliness. 

For her husband she had the most profound 
gratitude. Married so young, she had never 
known another lover, and Louis Danville had 
been the splendid realization of her heart’s 
first desire. As she was quite a novice, and 
completely pure, in mind as well as in body, 
her love had but increased during the first two 
years of her married life. It might almost 
be said that she had been a mother before she 
realized she was a lover. And the memory 
of that blissful period was so sweet that it 
seemed as though its fragrance must perfume 
the rest of her days. 


HER HUSBAND’S WIFE 


39 

For nearly ten years she had never been able 
to let her husband leave the house without go- 
ing on to the balcony with a field-glass that 
she might follow his carriage longer with her 
eyes. And Louis loved her well for these 
things. 

By reason of her severe upbringing she had 
long retained an excessive sense of shame. 
She declined to read a book containing a pas- 
sionate love story, and was naively shocked at 
the idea of married women carrying on flirta- 
tions. 

When she returned to the hotel on that Sun- 
day evening, after the excursion to the Falls, 
she shut herself up in her room, and, plead- 
ing indisposition, she left her husband and 
daughter to take a stroll about the town with 
Crawford. 

Her lips were on fire. Could it be that a 
man had kissed her? Could it be that she 
had not instantly darted back at the contact of 
those insolent lips? How could it be that for 
a mere nothing — a murmur of the wind, a 
kiss of the sun, a hum of insects — a woman 


4 o THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

could forget in a single instant fifteen years of 
virtue? 

She wept They were tears of vexation. 
She began to reason. It was the trees that 
had been responsible — the trees, the moun- 
tains, the wind, everything! Everything ex- 
cept herself ! It was the effect of her environ- 
ment, the fatality of the time and place. 
Never before had she experienced a similar 
sense of exaltation; never had twilight filled 
her heart with such an indefinable tenderness. 
In that strange moment on that evil hillside, 
that moment when she received that kiss, any 
catastrophe might have befallen Claudia Dan- 
ville, and she would not have deigned to no- 
tice it. 

The ground might have opened beneath her 
feet, and she would not have uttered a cry. 
Admiration, fatigue, happiness, had played 
too effectually upon her nerves. Perhaps she 
had let that kiss fall upon her mouth as she 
would have let the rain fall upon her shoul- 
ders, without dreaming of flight, without car- 
ing, without the slightest feeling of alarm. 
Was the thing so very important after all? 


HER HUSBAND’S WIFE 


41 

But as she became plunged in these reflec- 
tions Claudia despised herself. She recalled 
the ugly, brutal truth. She had seen that kiss 
coming; she had received it in all conscious- 
ness, and her lips had parted as if her soul 
would have drunk it up. 

“ I was mad! ” she said aloud. “ I was not 
myself! ” 

She paced rapidly up and down her room. 

“Ah! now I have recovered my self-con- 
trol!” 

And as the lover’s supplication seemed once 
more to be ringing in her ears, she heard the 
words : — 

“ To-morrow, at two o’clock, in the Chapel 
of the Basilica,” she murmured silently: — 

“ Never!” 

Danville returned. As soon as she heard 
his step upon the stairs, Claudia walked to the 
door. And she held up her face for his kiss 
— not her cheeks, nor her forehead, but her 
lips, her ardent lips, feeling they needed puri- 
fying. 

And only after that kiss did she permit her- 
self to embrace Louise, who had entered be- 


42 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

hind her father, her cheeks aglow with the 
walk in the fresh, sweet air, her hands occu- 
pied with a roll of white paper. 

“ Are you better now? ” asked Danville, 
laying down his hat. 

And then immediately he began to speak of 
the composer, saying : 

“What a charming fellow! You know, we 
have just been to see him! He insisted abso- 
lutely upon our seeing his room in the hotel 
near by. He is really a most charming fel- 
low!” 

Louise broke in at this juncture: 

“ Oh! by the way, Mamma, this is for you.” 

And the young girl handed her the roll of 
paper. 

Claudia unrolled it. It was a copy of the 
“ Song of the Roses,” Roger Crawford’s well- 
known melody. Beneath the title the com- 
poser had written: — 

“ To Mrs. Danville, in memory of Sunday, 
September 29th.” 

The signature was written in bold, upright 
characters. The hand that had held the pen 
had not trembled 


HER HUSBAND’S WIFE 43 

Claudia laid the piece of music on a side 
table. 

There was a piano in the principal room of 
the apartment the Danvilles occupied in the 
hotel, and Louis turned to his wife saying: 
“Suppose you play us this ‘Song of the 
Roses / ” and placed a chair on either side of 
the music-stool, one for Louise, the other for 
himself. But as he was opening the piano, 
Claudia declared that she did not feel in the 
least like playing. 

Danville turned to his daughter and said: 

“ Will you try it through for me, Louise? ” 
laying the open sheet on the music-rest. 

Just at that moment Claudia was in the lit- 
tle room adjoining, which she had converted 
into a dressing-room, but scarcely had she 
heard the first few bars of the “Song of the 
Roses ” before she slipped back and went over 
to Louise saying: 

“ Oh, no 1 Don’t play that, please ! ” And 
rather too abruptly she snatched Crawford’s 
melody from its place on the piano. 

“ What is the matter with you to-night? ” 
asked Louis. 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


44 

“Oh! nothing; only a headache. The 
piano would get on my nerves.” 

And Claudia threw a smile at her husband, 
looking meanwhile perfectly composed. 

Of course they sometimes had their little 
tiffs, like all susceptible lovers who are very 
much in love with each other; and they put 
in practice the precept contained in the famous 
Indian poem, which declares : “ People must 
quarrel, for the same reason that meat is 
salted.” But on this occasion Danville did not 
insist. He thought his wife was really ill, and 
he settled down to write a few business letters 
before going to bed. 

Half an hour later, Claudia, who was al- 
ready in bed, doing her best to get to sleep, 
saw her husband leave his chair, take up the 
" Song of the Roses ” cross over to the lamp, 
and, beating time with his foot, heard him 
whistle between his teeth the air composed by 
Roger Crawford. 

“ Idiot! ” thought his wife. “ It would 
serve you right if — ” 

But a few moments later she felt a pang of 
remorse, for she saw her husband — her good 


HER HUSBAND’S WIFE 


45 

Louis — take a flower out of his buttonhole — 
the little wild flower that Claudia had placed 
there, on the hill of Montmorency, and care- 
fully deposit this little souvenir in his pocket- 
book 


CHAPTER III 

AWAKENING 

Perhaps ’tis pretty to force together 
Thoughts so all unlike each other; 

To mutter and mock a broken charm, 

To dally with wrong that does no harm. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

Claudia Danville slept badly that night. 
She could not explain the reason for her sleep- 
lessness. She did not care to believe that 
Crawford could possibly disturb her repose. 
She assured herself it was because of all the 
different clocks in the town, which had been 
making an extraordinary din for the last few 
moments. That of the Basilica in particular, 
which she thought she recognized, amazed her 
exceedingly. Claudia heard midnight strik- 
ing several times, and one o’clock several 
times, and two o’clock an incredible number 
of times. And she could not help reflecting 

46 


AWAKENING 


47 

that when these clocks struck two again . . . 
two o’clock in the afternoon. . . . 

“ Ah! ” she said, almost aloud, “ I hope he 
thinks I am going!” 

Louis woke up. 

She did not stir, but made her breathing 
calmer and more regular, and pretended to be 
asleep. 

Only with the approach of dawn did her 
eyelids really close in slumber, a weary, heavy 
slumber, in which she was continually com- 
mencing and re-commencing the ascent of the 
day before. 

And when she rose she wanted to open the 
shutters, even before she dressed, to look into 
the street below ; she did not dare to admit to 
herself that it was only the spire of the Basilica 
that attracted her gaze, which was just visible 
above the roof of another building. 

And she fretted and fumed over the blue 
gown which had suffered so severely from yes- 
terday’s struggle with thorny bushes, over the 
dust-laden petticoats, the down-at-heel shoes; 
over everything she had worn the previous 
day, which seemed to have reappeared only 


48 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

to remind her mockingly of that miserable ex- 
cursion. She scolded the maid, who slept in 
the next room. 

“ Anna, why haven’t you brushed my 
clothes? ” 

It was only seven o’clock, and Louis awoke 
with a start. 

The morning which had just commenced 
seemed abominably long. Not far from the 
hotel could be heard the continual rumbling 
of carts and carriages and omnibuses, accom- 
panied by a clamor of bells. And the cup of 
coffee Anna brought her tasted like medicine. 

“ The devil 1 I don’t know whether 
Cravrford is still tired — but I ! . . 

These were the first words Louis uttered 
when he awoke, with a prodigious yawn. 

Claudia could have slapped his face. 

She was not a good actress, and was unprac- 
ticed in the art of concealing her emotions. 
Being very quick to feel, and feeling much, 
and very strongly, she was unable to control 
her nerves. Hers was not the nature to don 
a mask and continue to wear it at pleasure. 
Very often it was as though events pulled a 


AWAKENING 


49 

series of wires in her body and forced her to 
make mechanical gestures; and perhaps the 
greatest charm in her charming countenance 
was due to this spontaneity of expression. 

Louis being as quick to read as his wife to 
betray, asked: 

“ Are you still feeling tired from our 
tramp? ” 

She looked at her husband. Why did ev- 
ery word he uttered recall Crawford? 

Intensely irritated, she made up her mind 
to go out. She dressed quickly, choosing a 
very elegant costume, kissed Louise three or 
four times over, and hurried off with her 
downstairs. 

“ Where are we going, Mamma? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she replied. 

And once outside the hotel, she walked with 
rapid steps, obsessed by a feverish longing for 
excitement. 

At a certain moment Louise raised her 
pretty fair head as if in search of something. 

“What are you looking at?” 

“ I am looking to see if Mr. Crawford is at 
his window.” 


50 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY, 

“ Is he staying here? ” 

“Yes. That must be his window over there. 
That one in the corner, on the third floor.” 

“ Oh!” 

After a brief hesitation, she herself glanced 
in the direction of that window in the corner, 
on the third floor, and saw that there was no 
one in sight. 

“ Has he a nice room? ” 

“ What did you say, Mamma? ” 

But Claudia, almost blushing, did not dare 
to repeat her question. Instead, she asked her 
daughter to admire some flowers which a mar- 
ket-woman was pushing along in a little cart. 

And the tower of the Basilica, visible which- 
ever way they turned, again offended her 
weary eyes. 

Suddenly she turned pale. A young man 
was walking towards them, a dark, slender 
young man. 

“ Oh! ” said Claudia, with a slight accent of 
disappointment. 

“ What is the matter? ” 

She did not reply at once. Then, with a 
smile, she murmured : — 


AWAKENING 


5i 

“Oh! how silly I am. I thought I recog- 
nized . . . someone.” 

They were out a long time, visiting the old 
town and the fortifications. Claudia ap- 
peared to be enjoying herself immensely. And 
just at the moment when she was apparently 
taking an intense interest in everything she was 
saying to herself : — 

“ Goodness ! How difficult it is to find any 
form of distraction ! ” 

She bought several newspapers, and on re- 
turning to the hotel endeavored to read them. 
But the letters danced up and down before her 
eyes. 

She ate nothing but a few grapes at lunch. 
And when the clock struck one, and then the 
half-hour, she suddenly rose, and laid her arms 
about her husband’s neck: — 

“ Let’s go for a walk, shall we? ” 

“ Of course. At once, if you like. I shall 
enjoy it.” 

And as they went out together, he asked af- 
fectionately: — 

“ Where would you like to go, dear? ” 

“ I don’t mind. Somewhere a long way off. 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


52 

Let’s go to some of the shops, and then to the 
Plains of Abraham.” 

“ All right 1 ” Danville answered, and drew 
out his watch. 

Then, without a quiver in her voice, slightly 
lowering her eyes to pin a flower into the 
bosom of her gown, Claudia asked: — 

“ What time is it? ” 

“ Ten minutes to two.” 

The young wife was conscious of a delight- 
ful thrill of excitement. She made no at- 
tempt, on Fabrique Street, to discover whether 
a dark young man was walking in the direc- 
tion of the chapel. 

She really enjoyed herself that afternoon, 
without any pretense. At first she walked 
along slowly, looking in the shop windows. 
And then, after a time, they drove out to the 
old battle ground. Louis had brought a field 
glass. They tried to discover panoramic mar- 
vels. And Claudia was enchanted to find that 
she could discern quite distinctly the iron 
weather-cock perched on the summit of the 
stone tower of Montmorency. 


AWAKENING 


53 

“ See if you can, too 1 ” she said to her hus- 
band. 

Danville saw nothing. And though she was 
a little unnerved, Claudia experienced a really 
delightful sensation, as it is always very sweet 
for a woman to play with two men at once, 
even when she is absolutely indifferent to one 
of these men, and adores the other with all her 
heart. 

As she climbed up the grassy slope of the 
old fortifications, Claudia was a prey to an 
agreeable sense of anxiety; her husband gave 
her his hand in the most dangerous or difficult 
spots, and he doubtless could not help remem- 
bering that Crawford had performed a similar 
service the previous day at the Falls. Three 
times Louis came to her aid, but not once 
did he mention the composer’s name! And 
Claudia — was it disappointment? — uncon- 
sciously resented the fact. She took no inter- 
est in the historical facts related by her hus- 
band, which Danville told off in learned 
fashion. 

They dined at a small inn. Mrs. Danville 


54 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

had an excellent appetite, and it was nine 
o’clock before they returned to the hotel. 

As her husband was collecting the letters 
that had arrived by the last post, Claudia 
turned to the porter : — 

“No one has called? ” she asked. 

“No, Madam.” 

She frowned slightly. 

And to the chambermaid she said, as soon 
as the door was open : 

“ Did no one ring this afternoon? ” 

“ No one, Madam.” 

“You are quite sure? . . . About three 
o’clock? ” 

“ Were you expecting anyone, then? ” asked 
Louis. 

“I? No.” But almost as she spoke a ring 
was heard, and she was quite excited. 

“Ah! It is you, Crawford,” cried Dan- 
ville joyously. “ Please come in.” 

And Claudia uttered an almost natural ex- 
clamation of surprise as she offered the young 
man her little trembling hand. 

Crawford bowed to Mrs. Danville with a 


AWAKENING 55 

look of quiet pleasure on his face; his hand- 
shake was very cordial, his glance very ordi- 
nary and conventional, and quite respectful. 
He explained the reason of his visit with well- 
bred ease, whilst he took possession of the chair 
Danville had indicated. As he was passing, he 
thought he would come to bid them “ good 
evening.” And he smiled pleasantly as he 
talked over the excursion of the previous day. 
He was quite willing to talk over current top- 
ics with Louis, made a few intelligent obser- 
vations, touched upon a Wagnerian question, 
discreetly hummed over two bars of “ Parsi- 
fal ” to give weight to one of his arguments 
and altogether appeared to be in the best of 
health and spirits. 

Claudia was dumbfounded. She could not 
understand. She felt quite unable to interest 
herself in the conversation. She cast furtive, 
disconcerted glances in the direction of Craw- 
ford. Had she perchance dreamed it all? If 
not, what man was that? Whatl not even with 
his eyes did he convey a reproach to herl Not 
even by one of those mad handclasps which all 


56 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

properly conducted lovers indulge in, which 
are doubtless so sweet to the hearts of sensitive 
women ! 

The composer got ready to go. Claudia 
had scarcely had time to remove her hat. 

“Shall we go out for a few moments?” 
asked Louis. 

Out of politeness she replied : “ Cer- 
tainly.” 

And they got ready to take the composer 
back to his hotel. 

It was a beautiful evening. The breeze was 
steeped in the fragrance of the evergreens of 
the north country. All four sat down for a 
moment on the terrace chairs; then Danville 
suggested taking a walk. Claudia was tired. 
Out of politeness she did not say anything, but 
she lagged a little way behind. Crawford was 
speaking to her of Mozart. Danville and his 
daughter were discussing the name of a large 
white star. 

Claudia could not find a word to say. 

At a bend in the pathway, Crawford said, in 
a very gentle voice : — 

“ You did not come to-day? I love you 


AWAKENING 


57 

dearly. I will wait for you to-morrow, and 
every day, at the same time, and at the same 
place.” 

“ Claudia, is it not Sirius? ” asked Danville, 
as he turned round towards his wife. 

Claudia coulcl not reply. 

But Crawford possessed some knowledge of 
astronomy. 

“ Oh, no,” he said, in his child-like, musical 
voice. “ It should rather be Jupiter, should 
it not? And that little pink star beside it must 
be Mars. Is it not, Mrs. Danville? ” 

And very low, with a long look from his 
deep gray eyes, he murmured : — 

“ Until to-morrow!” 


CHAPTER IV 

THE PRIMROSE PATH 

What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger 
Is woman! 

Lord Byron. 

“Suppose I tell my husband all?” thought 
Claudia, with a tremor of indignation. 

But what would be the use of disturbing 
Louis’ peace of mind with vain alarms? Why 
employ such extravagant means? Would it 
not be admitted that Crawford was danger- 
ous? She certainly did not desire to confer 
upon the personage in question such an honor 
as that. And she entered the hotel in a state 
of violent excitement. 

Her dignity was wounded. 

“ Why is he treating me like this? Why is 
he more impertinent than other men? Is he 
blind? Or is it I who am blind? ” 

But she speedily reassured herself. “No! 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 


59 

I am sure of my own heart. This man is noth- 
ing to me ; and that utterly unlooked-for kiss 
I gave him was given to the mountains, to the 
trees, to the sky, perhaps to God — but not to 
a man.” 

This pretty reasoning restored her peace of 
mind. She had walked back to the hotel with- 
out knowing where she was going, lost in 
thoughts. Twice her husband had spoken to 
her without her having heard him. But she 
went to bed with her heart at rest, and was al- 
most at once sound asleep. 

The next morning she noticed that the exit 
from the hotel where Crawford was staying 
was visible from Louise’s room. 

And, having made this discovery, she noticed 
also that the table in this same room was a 
mass of litter ; earrings lying about on a book, 
a heavy illustrated periodical had been thrown 
on to some fragile books, whilst the petals of 
a faded bouquet had fallen upon some deli- 
cate laces. She put everything in order again, 
and the task took her a whole hour; and if 
she often glanced at the doorway of Craw- 
ford’s hotel during that hour, it was only nat- 


6o THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

ural, because there was no other architectural 
marvel visible from the window. 

Besides, Mrs. Danville was perfectly calm; 
she could think of all sorts of things, she could 
have found the answer to a riddle if one had 
been placed before her. And if she had been 
incessantly humming, since the previous even- 
ing, a certain motif from “ Parsifal,” recalled 
to her memory by Crawford, it was because she 
liked that particular motif so much. 

There were many knocks at the door of the 
suite, and Claudia’s heart beat unaccountably 
fast after each knock, which exasperated her. 
And the title of the " Song of the Roses,” 
which Louise had left on the piano, seemed to 
dance up and down before her eyes, which dis- 
turbed her greatly. And finally, the chair 
Crawford had occupied, that ordinary com- 
mon-place easy-chair of a hotel room, whose 
coarse white antimacassar had been disar- 
ranged by the composer’s hand, made her ex- 
tremely agitated. 

At last, unable to contain herself any longer, 
she pushed the horrible piece of furniture into 
the most obscure corner of the room, she 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 61 

crumpled up the sentimental melody and threw 
it into the most dusty drawer she could find. 

“ Well 1 yes ! I do think about that man — 
think about him constantly,” she confessed to 
herself, “ as one thinks about the rain falling! 
Does that mean one loves the rain? ” 

She did not want to go out that day. She 
admitted that she was not well, and strongly 
recommended Louis to take Louise for a drive. 

At one o’clock, dressed in an exquisite morn- 
ing-gown, whose loose sleeves revealed the 
pretty bare arms to the elbow, she went to her 
daughter’s room, took up her watch with one 
hand, her lorgnette with the other, and, with 
a very joyful mien installed herself in the win- 
dow to examine all the daring slim young men 
who might be leaving the entrance to Craw- 
ford’s hotel. 

She thought the situation rather funny, and 
she promised herself a hearty laugh. 

She soon grew tired of standing, and took a 
chair, and in order to add a touch of ironical 
gayety to the scene, she went off, she who never 
touched a needle, to look for a new handker- 
chief of her husband’s, and tried to embroider 


62 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


in the corner, with very loving fingers, a mag- 
nificent Gothic “ L.” And, instead of that 
aggravating “Parsifal,” she could cheerfully 
have sung, just then, the classic air of “ Every- 
body’s Doing It.” 

But this simple pastime soon wearied her. 
She found she could not watch the passers-by 
and the movements of the needle at one and the 
same time. Moreover, her watch said a quar- 
ter to two ; it was time to begin to be serious. 
And she stationed herself in a position of atten- 
tive observation. 

Several times she thought she recognized 
him, her bold, candid lover; and at ten min- 
utes to two her heart beat fast. Yes, it was 
certainly he who was drawing nearer, over 
there. How quickly he passed! And how 
short a time she had in which to laugh at him! 
But she was very glad to see him in such a 
hurry. That hasty eagerness charmed her. 
What would she have said if he had been a 
quarter of an hour late? She would almost 
have had the right to make a scene! 

Her brow grew darker. After all, was that 
he who was hurrying toward the chapel now? 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 63 

There was a hesitating look in Claudia’s eyes. 
No doubt she had been mistaken. And a 
quarter of an hour later she thought she recog- 
nized Crawford once more in a man who 
stood motionless, waiting near the entrance. 

All her pleasure was spoilt. That lorgnette 
was not much good, thought Claudia. She 
ought to have got into a closed carriage and 
ordered the driver to wait in front of the ca- 
thedral. Thus she would have seen her poor 
lover close at hand, by raising the blind a little. 
She would have been able to study his physi- 
ognomy, to remark his uneasiness, to note the 
features contort with alarm. It would have 
been delicious. 

She sat down again. A sudden temptation 
assailed her; to go and confess, now, that very 
instant, confess in that grave, silent, gloomy 
chapel, in a confessional close to where he 
stood. What supreme joy to proclaim to her 
confessor her absolute purity, her wifely vir- 
tue, whilst watching with a saintly gaze the 
lover waiting with feverish impatience. 

She resisted the perverse inclination. She 
might not have time to dress. So, to distract 


64 the fruit of folly 

her thoughts, whilst she waited for the return 
of her little family, she had recourse to her 
habitual custom, a very childish custom, but 
so sweet! She imagined that one of her 
friends, her best friends, that dear, good Alice, 
was with her in Quebec. Ah, that was it! 
An indefinable gleam shone in Claudia’s eyes. 
She had a most resourceful imagination. And 
in a low voice she saw herself whispering 
to her little friend all the details of this 
lovely adventure. There was a smile on her 
face. 

“Just imagine, my dear,” she was saying 
mentally to Alice, and Claudia was so lost in 
her dream that she gesticulated expressively, 
and almost murmured the words aloud, “ Just 
imagine, I have a lover.” 

“ Good-looking? ” asked Alice. 

“ Not bad,” replied Claudia. (Of course, 
she must not let it be concluded that Craw- 
ford was a handsome fellow, purely out of co- 
quetry.) 

“ And is he very much in love with you? ” 

“You shall see for yourself,” replied 
Claudia, with a note of triumph in her voice. 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 65 

And she rose to take her confidant with her to 
the chapel. . . . 

“ Oh, no,” said Claudia aloud, finding she 
had risen in real earnest to go to the Basilica. 
“ These imaginary conversations with Alice 
would lead me too far.” 

And to divert her thoughts she sat down at 
the piano, singing “ Parsifal” 

That night she slept. The next morning 
she donned another new gown of studied sim- 
plicity, and in perfect taste; then she informed 
her husband that she was going out with Lou- 
ise. 

“Where are you going, so early?” 

“ To Mass.” 

Louis looked astonished. 

“ Really?” 

“Would you care to come with us? It is 
at nine o’clock.” 

And she drew his attention to the fact that 
this day, the second of October, was the third 
anniversary of the death of an aunt. 

It was a fresh morning. They had reached 
the Basilica in ten minutes. 

Claudia hesitated for some time before she 


66 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


finally chose their places. She stopped first at 
a chair near the entrance ; then she thought it 
her duty to kneel down in an obscure corner of 
the chapel; then her eyes were attracted by a 
strange door, which opened on one side of the 
church, and through which the faithful passed 
in compact files. She had not known of this 
entrance, and she appeared to be very much 
surprised. 

But Mass had begun. Claudia foraged 
with lowered eyes ; she reflected that the night 
before, or the night before that, Crawford had 
perhaps knelt in the same spot, whilst glancing 
feverishly at his watch. And this pleasant 
supposition redoubled her piety. 

When the priest had pronounced the Bene- 
diction, the faithful departed; but Claudia 
lingered, with the intention of examining all 
the curiosities of the old church. She slowly 
made a tour of the sacred building, gazing at 
the pillars, the altars, the confessionals. 
From time to time she touched the chairs as 
she passed, and she thought with a thrill of 
pleasure that her naive adorer must also have 
touched one among their number. 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 67 

Then, upon reflection, she convinced herself 
that the composer, during his long waits, had 
neither knelt nor sat down, but must have 
looked at the pictures and deciphered the in- 
scriptions upon the walls ; she did the same, in 
company with Louise, and for a long time 
stood in ecstasies before some of the ex-votos. 

“ It is a good revenge,” she thought in self- 
excuse, “ and it does one good.” 

As they were leaving the building, she 
turned to her daughter. 

“ A very pretty chapel, isn’t it? ” she asked. 

And she was not at all pleased with Louise, 
when the latter declared that on the contrary 
she thought it rather ordinary. 

They sat down to lunch with good appe- 
tites. Danville wondered where they should 
spend the afternoon. Claudia declared that 
for a visit to the fortress to be complete one 
must hear a military band. It so happened 
that this very day a regimental band from 
Ottawa was coming to give a concert. 

The Danville trio were there at two o’clock. 
But the concert did not begin until three. 
They walked about. Claudia did not want to 


68 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


go too far away, declaring that there would 
surely be a rush for places. She was excited, 
and looked very pretty. Her eyes of golden- 
brown had never gleamed with so bright 
a light above her delicately-tinted cheeks. 
Life, abundant and exuberant, seemed to 
course through her veins; she would have 
liked to play at skipping with Louise. 
And suddenly turning to her husband, she 
said : — 

“ You haven’t seen the chapel of the Basilica 
yet, have you? Do come! It is quite inter- 
esting.” 

The idea had appealed to her all in a flash. 
To go to Crawford’s rendezvous on her hus- 
band’s arm! Would not her revenge be com- 
plete! She felt a mad desire to laugh aloud. 

“ Aren’t you coming? What do you want 
to stay here for? ” she said to Danville, who 
had not greeted the proposition very enthusi- 
astically. 

She drew him along. What a joke it would 
be! Ah! this clever young man had wounded 
her! Ah! he had fondly imagined that some 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 69 

day or other she would be his ! The simple- 
ton! 

Nevertheless, she trembled. Perhaps the 
blow would be too severe for Crawford; 
perhaps it would cover him with too much 
confusion! And if he were to blush too con- 
spicuously, if he were to appear too obviously 
disturbed? 

“ Bah! He would deserve the lesson! ” she 
said to herself. 

And aloud : — 

“ Hurry up, Louis! ” 

She wanted to be the first to enter the chapel. 
No doubt Crawford, anxiously waiting, would 
perceive her immediately, and believing her 
to be alone, would breathe a sigh of vic- 
tory. . . . 

“Just wait!” she whispered inwardly. 
“ Just wait, my good man! ” 

For two seconds, before the baize door, she 
listened to the beating of her heart. She was 
afraid she might faint. She felt as though 
her eyes were closing ... what was she go- 
ing to do when she got there? 


70 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

But she summoned up her failing courage, 
and stretched forth a trembling hand to the 
door. 

The noise of the opening door resounded 
loudly through the chapel. Claudia held it 
back to let her daughter and her husband pass. 
Then, quivering from head to foot, she dipped 
two ice-cold fingers in the holy water, and 
made the Sign of the Cross. 

“ Well ! suppose you show, me the marvels 1 ” 
whispered Louis. 

She said not a word. She remained mo- 
tionless in front of a chair, murmuring an un- 
conscious prayer. There was a mist before 
her eyes. She took a few hesitating steps, 
looking discreetly at an aged lady counting 
her beads on the left. Then her eyes traveled 
furtively to a very fat man whose heavy foot- 
falls were audible towards the right of the 
chapel; then she walked timidly down the 
aisle, between her daughter and her husband. 
She turned pale; no longer did she think 
the ex-votos interesting. She walked more 
quickly, looking into all the corners, asked 
Danville the time, and left the church five 


HE PRIMROSE PATH 


7i 

minutes later, choking with rage. . . . Craw- 
ford was not there ! 

“ The wretch!” 

She muttered the words between her teeth. 
She glanced up at the clock. It was only 
twenty minutes to three ! 

So Roger — for in her thoughts he was 
Roger, not Crawford — Roger had not waited 
for her more than half-an-hour! What in- 
solence! Would not any decent man have 
stayed till three o’clock, or a quarter-past? 
And perhaps, for all she knew, he had not 
come at all ! 

A dull feeling of rebellion set her sensitive 
nostrils quivering. Perhaps he would not 
come the next day, either, to this rendezvous to 
which she did not want to go herself! It was 
really beyond endurance. 

Then she smiled. 

“ After all, what more could I wish for? 
He does not love me! It was nothing serious. 
I ought to be glad! ” 

So, she was happy. But the music of the 
military band seemed perfectly execrable, and 
as soon as the concert was over she was in a 


72 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

great hurry to get away. She scarcely uttered 
a word. Danville and Louise chattered 
gayly. She led them through a labyrinth of 
absurd by-streets, where she lingered an in- 
terminable time, for the pleasure of looking at 
the different shops. She made her husband 
and her daughter walk up and down the same 
street three times. 

“ Are we playing at hobby horses? ” asked 
Louis, who was in a good humor. 

She looked at him with flashing eyes. Why 
did he not understand? . . . 

Claudia had to be the first to speak, with 
contracted lips, of Mr. Roger Crawford. 

“ Ah ! by the way,” said Danville, as soon as 
she had mentioned the composer’s name, “ we 
have to pass his hotel. Shall we go up just to 
bid him good-day? ” 

Claudia, obedient to the dictates of elemen- 
tary strategy, did not greet the proposal very 
eagerly. But she meekly followed her hus- 
band. 

“ Perhaps he is ill,” she thought, as she 
crossed the hotel courtyard. 

And this reflection consoled her. 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 


73 

Louis led the two ladies up narrow flights 
of stairs and along gloomy corridors. He 
stopped outside a door bearing an oval porce- 
lain plaque inscribed with the number “ 24.” 
That was the room. With a rapid movement 
Claudia adjusted her veil and patted her hair. 

Louis knocked. There was a long silence. 
Louis knocked again. 

“ He is not there,” he said in an off-hand 
voice, and very light-heartedly he turned to go 
downstairs again. 

Sure enough, on the landing of the second 
floor, the ho.tel porter informed him that Mr. 
Crawford had gone out. 

But they had scarcely walked twenty yards 
down the street when they saw a fair woman, 
a little too elaborately got up, walking towards 
them. A young man accompanied this beauti- 
ful creature. 

“ Good afternoon ! ” he exclaimed as he 
bowed to his friends. 

“ We have just come from your place,” said 
Danville, and he raised his hat to the blonde 
lady. 

Crawford introduced her then. 


74 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ Mile. Rignetti, of the Metropolitan Op- 
era Company. But you will come back I 
hope, Mrs. Danville? I was just going in.” 

Claudia, whose sharp eyes had been taking 
in every detail of the singer’s costume, could 
not bring herself to open her lips. 

Then Danville excused himself on account 
of his wife and daughter, who had merely 
wished to run in and bid the composer good- 
day. 

Mile. Rignetti and Crawford walked part 
of the way back with them. 

“ Have you been for a walk? ” he asked in 
his cordial, musical voice. 

“ Oh! no,” replied Louis. “ We only went 
to the chapel of the Basilica at two o’clock.” 

Claudia felt a crimson tide mounting to her 
forehead. 

“The simpleton!” she thought. “Why 
did he want to say that? ” 

She turned her back to the singer, and be- 
neath Crawford’s gaze her own eyes fell. 
“ What a humiliation ! ” she thought. 

She moved away, quivering with shame. 
And the young man’s commonplace hand- 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 


75 

shake sent a shudder through her arm right 
up to her shoulder. 

She felt as though she wanted to cry. The 
corners of her mouth quivered with anger. 
She turned to Danville, saying abruptly: — 

“ A nice thing, wasn’t it! To bring us face 
to face with that creature ! ” 

“ But, my dear, I was not to know.” 

“Oh! come! A composer of sentimental 
music! Is it likely he would be walking 
about with anyone else but a singer? ” 

They went indoors, and in their own apart- 
ment the dispute was continued. 

“ And that,” said Claudia, “ is a gentleman 
who has sat down at our table I ” 

Danville opened astonished eyes. 

“ A gentleman who has accidentally met an 
actress in the street! What a crime! ” 

“Oh! Met?” 

“Well?” 

“ Oh! really, you are disgusting. You for- 
get that your daughter is listening to you.” 
An hour later the discussion began again. 
“She was pretty, that actress creature!” 
said Claudia mockingly. 


76 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ Her face was not so bad.” 

“ Perhaps! I, for one, could only have 
seen it underneath the powder.” 

“ Certain of your friends powder them- 
selves quite as much as that.” 

“ I will thank you not to compare my friends 
with that gentleman’s companion.” 

“ Oh! is it his fiancee? ” 

Claudia shrugged her shoulders with a pity- 
ing air. 

“ You are not very considerate for Mrs. 
Crawford,” said Danville. 

It was Claudia’s turn now to look aston- 
ished. 

“ What did you say? ” 

“ Didn’t you know, then, that Crawford was 
married? ” 

“ Married?” 

“ And the father of a child? ” 

“ Married — a father — he? ” 

“ Why, everyone knows that.” 

She sat down on a low chair at his feet, and 
clasping her hands on her husband’s knee, 
quivering with eager curiosity, she said : — < 

“ Tell me — tell me all about it.” 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 


77 

“ Oh ! it is very little that I know ; only 
just what I was told by one of his friends last 
year at a dance. He has been married four 
or five years. A charming woman; it seems 
she is always ill, that is why he does not take 
her out with him. Or else it is his mother-in- 
law who is often indisposed. I have forgot- 
ten the exact details, you know. Yes, after 
all, I think it is Mrs. Crawford’s mother who 
is always ill. She lives either at Lenox or 
Stockbridge, and is always wanting her daugh- 
ter to stay with her. Mrs. Crawford spends 
half her time there with her son, a baby three 
or four years old. Crawford, of course, is 
naturally compelled to remain in New York 
on account of his work. That is what I have 
heard; I think that is the version, though I 
won’t be absolutely sure. After all, it is no 
concern of ours. He is a charming fellow, 
and if I don’t take the liberty of inquiring 
after his wife it is because I have not the honor 
of knowing her.” 

Claudia seemed as though she could 
scarcely breathe. Her pupils dilated as 
though she would fain have gazed from one 


78 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

end of the continent to the other in search of 
this mysterious Mrs. Crawford, whose exist- 
ence she had not even suspected five minutes 
before. 

“What a queer story,” she said, and then, 
rising abruptly to her feet, she asked, “ Why 
have you never mentioned this before? ” 

“ When have I ever had any occasion to do 
so? We were not interested in this gentle- 
man before last Sunday. Besides, what does 
it matter if he be married or single? It does 
not rob him of his talent!” 

And as if to put an end to the discussion, 
Danville began looking for Crawford’s melody 
among the various papers. 

During dinner Claudia said, with a cynical 
smile, “ She ought to be pretty, this Mrs. 
Crawford — if any such person exists! ” 

“ Why not? ” returned Danville. 

“ Do you think any self-respecting woman 
would have had anything to do with such a 
puppet as that? ” 

“ But the puppet has plenty of life in it, 
my dear.” 

“Really! Oh! I haven’t examined him 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 


79 

very closely! But I think, if I remember 
rightly, his eyes . . 

“ Magnificent black eyes, my dear! ” 

“ Gray,” she corrected. 

“ Possibly. I am not a man of detail. I 
only know the general effect is pleasing.” 

“ His neck is horrible!” 

“ I don’t think so.” 

“ It is like a prize-fighter’s. You can see 
four or five of them for twenty-five cents at At- 
lantic City.” 

“That is no argument against Crawford; 
quite the contrary! ” 

“ And that absurd lock of hair on his fore- 
head ! ” 

“Oh! Is there a lock? ” 

“Yes, carefully curled! The conceited 
fop!” 

And then, speaking through her nose, she 
imitated the composer’s voice so successfully 
that Louise went off into shrieks of laughter. 

“Be quiet, Baby!” said Danville to his 
wife. “ He might be at the door for all we 
know.” 

Claudia rose. 


8o THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


“ He? He shall never set foot in here 
again!” she cried emphatically. 

And, as her husband looked amazed, she 
sang the air from “ Parsifal ” to distract his at- 
tention, in an irresistible falsetto, which 
sounded like a caricature, as it were, of the 
musician’s voice. 

And Anna, the maid, burst out laughing too, 
in the next room. 

They went to bed very late that night, and 
Claudia did not fall asleep until three o’clock 
in the morning. Troubled dreams made her 
start up in bed, and now and again she whis- 
pered in her sleep, murmuring in frantic 
tones : — 

“No, no, no!” 

At dawn, still dreaming, she called her hus- 
band’s name. Danville awoke at the sound. 

“ What’s the matter? ” he asked. 

She looked about her with astonished eyes. 
Then she smiled, kissed Louis, and her eye- 
lids closed once more. 

And a moment later, beneath the warm, 
caressing contact of the sheets, she quivered 
from head to foot. 


THE PRIMROSE PATH 


“No, no! ” she said, still dreaming. 

She seemed to be resisting something, or 
someone, with all her strength, and straggled 
with all her might. 

But suddenly the stiffened body relaxed 
with a long sigh of bliss. She stretched out 
her arms, resisting no longer, in an ecstasy of 
relief that the struggling was over and her 
dream ended. 

“ Have you been frightened in the night, my 
own little Claudia? ” 

She opened her eyes at these words of sym- 
pathy from her husband, and drew back with 
a little gasp of astonishment. 

“You, Louis!” 

“Yes, darling!” 

“ Oh ! I am so thankful. I have had an 
awful nightmare, and thought someone was 
trying to murder me.” 

She was trembling all over, and as if not 
yet recovered from her fright, she hid her ter- 
rified face beneath the bed-clothes. 


CHAPTER V 


THE IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 


A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical 
impossibility. 


Thomas Carlyle. 


That morning, as she offered her lips for her 
husband’s matutinal kiss, Claudia murmured 
with an imperceptible note of sadness in her 
voice : — 

“ Louis, if you were a nice husband, you 
would do something for me.” 

“ Oh ! if you look at me like that, I can’t 
refuse. Well, what is it? ” 

“ I should like to go back to New York.” 

He looked amazed. 

“ When?” 

“ As soon as possible.” 

“ But why? ” 

“ I am not well. This place tires me. I 
shall get ill if I don’t leave here at once.” 

82 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 83 

They were to have stayed another week. 
But Louis did not press the point. 

Anna set to work at once to pack their 
trunks. 

Claudia was very happy. 

“ I am saved ! ” she thought. “ I shall not 
see him again. New York will divert my 
thoughts.” 

She was very sweet to Louis. Never had 
her maternal tenderness found sweeter words 
or lavished more minute attentions, even upon 
Louise. 

“If anyone rings you are not to open the 
door,” she told the servant. 

It was a day of feverish hurry and bustle. 
They scarcely had time to eat. Claudia was 
quite breathless, and hardly sat still a minute. 
She insisted upon helping Anna. She packed 
and folded to such good purpose that in a few 
hours all was ready. 

“ Shall we go and say good-by to Craw- 
ford?” suggested Danville, as all was ready 
for their departure. 

“ I haven’t time. You can write to him.” 

“ But . . .” 


84 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ You can tell him we have been called back 
to New York on urgent business.” 

It was raining. Anna went down to order 
a cab for a quarter to eleven. The ferry left 
at eleven-fifteen. They would travel all 
night, and would arrive at Montreal the fol- 
lowing morning. 

Louis wrote a friendly note to Crawford. 
Claudia’s eyes shone with melancholy pleas- 
ure. Her hands trembled with impatience. 
She was afraid of losing the train. The sta- 
tion was so far from the town ! She spoke of 
Beauport, and expressed some regret at not 
having brought away some souvenir of that 
charming spot. There was a jingle of bells, 
the caleche drew up before the hotel, and be- 
fore going down, Claudia kissed her husband 
and her daughter with tear-filled eyes. 

As they drove away, Mrs. Danville, looking 
very pale, put her head out of the window. 
She remained thus for a long time, in order 
to catch a glimpse of a certain little window 
on the third floor of a neighboring hotel. 

“ Is there a light in his room? ” asked Dan- 
ville. 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 85 

She shuddered. 

“No, it is all in darkness,” replied Claudia 
slowly. 

The train left a few minutes late. But when 
the engine at last laboriously puffed out of 
the station Claudia uttered a sigh of relief. 
She Would escape him, escape that disturbing 
personality, that man whom her eyes thought 
handsome and fascinating, in spite of her will. 

She would escape him, that stranger, who, 
in taking possession of her lips, seemed to have 
vanquished her entirely, as if she had been 
inoculated by the moisture of that magic kiss 
with the venom of love. 

They found a compartment while the por- 
ter made up their berths and as Danville 
carefully spread the rugs over her knees, he 
said : — 

“ I told him, you know, in my letter, that 
you were at home to visitors every Tuesday.” 

“ Told whom? ” 

“ Crawford.” 

The shrill scream of the engine echoed joy- 
ously in the still night air. 


86 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


Roger Crawford was a native of New York. 
His father had been an attorney there, where 
he was able to live in excellent style, thanks to 
his position as counsel to several large corpora- 
tions. 

The composer was, indeed, married. He 
was not proud of the fact; but he did not con- 
ceal it. His wife’s name was Marguerite. 
She had borne him one son, named Duncan. 
The child was dark, like its father. Craw- 
ford adored him. The marriage had taken 
place five years ago, and therefore Duncan was 
four years old. 

Roger Crawford’s wife was the only daugh- 
ter of an old lady of Stockbridge, a Mrs. Ray- 
mond, who stood in terror of the noise and 
bustle of city life. She lived alone at her old 
home where she had passed her whole life. 

Mrs. Raymond adored her daughter, but 
felt only a moderate liking for her son-in-law. 
She had good reasons for this. To begin 
with, Crawford lived in New York, and she 
had a particular distrust of this city. More- 
over, Crawford was poor, whilst Marguerite 
had a certain “ dot.” And finally, Crawford 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 87 

emphatically refused to leave his wife in 
Stockbridge, and Marguerite had perforce to 
forsake her mother’s side. 

This was a great grief to Mrs. Raymond, 
who declared she was ill. And her malady, 
which was, indeed, in all probability, quite as 
often real as imaginary, necessitated, on Mar- 
guerite’s part, numerous journeys to Stock- 
bridge. 

During the first year of her marriage Mar- 
guerite Crawford lived in New York, but as 
soon as little Duncan appeared upon the scene 
she had to spend a third of her time with her 
mother. The old widow, especially in win- 
ter, experienced intense alarms. If she had 
the most trifling cold she would telegraph to 
her daughter ; she was always imagining her- 
self to be at death’s door; and she would cheer- 
fully have retarded her recovery sometimes in 
order to keep her bonny little grandson with 
her a little longer. 

Crawford accompanied his wife to Stock- 
bridge, and remained there fairly contentedly 
for twenty-four hours. After that it generally 
happened that a letter from a music publisher, 


88 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

or a theatrical manager, or a literary collabo- 
rator, demanded his immediate return to New 
York. 

This particular September, Mrs. Raymond, 
having wired to announce the return of old 
rheumatic pains, he had gone with his wife and 
son; and then, the temperature being warm, 
and Stockbridge somewhat dull, he had ob- 
tained permission to run up to Quebec fox a 
few days. 

Thus, on the morning of October 6th when 
he received Danville’s letter, announcing his 
abrupt departure, Crawford felt a keen pang 
of disappointment. He had intended to re- 
main another week. He had notified the fact 
to all his friends, and especially to his wife. 
Why had Mrs. Danville gone away? He 
speedily realized that the chief charm of Que- 
bec lay in Claudia’s eyes. He did not hesitate, 
therefore; he packed up his trunks and re- 
turned to New York on October 7th. 

He was in love. 

Love does not listen to argument. It is 
proper and dignified to say that real love only 
comes once in a lifetime, and that only a Mor- 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 89 

mon could pretend to several objects of affec- 
tion at one time. Crawford proclaimed this 
pretty philosophy, these charming moral prin- 
ciples, about as loudly as the rest, and he shud- 
dered very sincerely, when he read in the 
newspapers of married men running away with 
their friends’ wives. 

But, also like the rest, it was rather difficult 
for him to see a pretty woman without falling 
in love with her; and he knew too well how 
sweet, how estimable, in the vanity of earthly 
things, is the souvenir of a fine collection of 
young creatures who have whispered: “I 
love you ! ” as they deliver their entire hearts 
into your keeping, to be too harshly severe in 
his judgment of those pleasant sensations 
which germinated in the warmth of his own 
mind. And his unbiased, healthy opinion, for 
his mind was untrammeled by the narrow re- 
strictions of social and religious systems, was 
that when the spark of passion is ignited the 
only guilty party — if there be any guilt — 
is that enigmatical Goddess of Chance who 
throws pleasing women across the pathway of 
susceptible men. 


90 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


Moreover, Crawford respected the exterior 
forms of the conventions. If some of his 
ideals of beauty were occasionally realized in 
the flesh, and the occurrence could not have 
been so very rare, Crawford always cast a veil 
of protecting mystery over his gallant adven- 
tures, which in love constitutes, perhaps, the 
supreme morality. He was ever prudent, 
ever cautious, even in his most passionate 
moments. 

Mrs. Danville had appealed to him. He 
had only the most common-place and ordinary 
recollections of those distant dances, where he 
had often met her. Claudia had merely given 
him the impression of a beautiful statue, a 
charming example of beauty. 

But on that autumn afternoon, when he had 
seen her cheeks aglow with excitement on the 
Hill of Montmorency, he had thought her 
superb, wonderful, and those deep gray eyes 
seemed to him to contain inexhaustible treas- 
ures of love. 

He admired her madly. And Claudia had 
certainly seemed to reciprocate the feeling, for 
one long minute, at all events, when she gave 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 91 

him her lips on the hill-top bathed in the rosy 
light of the setting sun. 

In that brief episode, lasting but a few mo- 
ments, their hearts had exchanged unspoken 
promises. 

And from that evening Crawford adored 
Claudia with all the sincerity of his physical 
being, which is perhaps the only sort of sin- 
cerity that is not deceptive. 

He adored her completely; that is to say, 
that from that hour he was entirely submissive 
and entirely devoted to her. And if he had 
been asked to what woman he desired to con- 
secrate his whole existence, exclusively, and 
without restriction, he would have replied: 
“ To Claudia! ” in the same perfect good faith 
as he would perhaps have thought the night 
before, “ to Marie,” and as he would think, 
no doubt, on the morrow, “ to Marion! ” 

Besides, what does it matter if love’s vows 
be not rigidly observed, when it is so sweet a 
thing even to utter them? 

Science has recently discovered that the va- 
rious cells of which a man is composed are 
entirely replaced every few months; thus is 


92 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


the frailty of human affection accounted for. 
It is not we ourselves who are forgetful of a 
woman ; it is the later man which has just been 
built up, cell by cell, that which we naively 
term our ego, for whom this woman possesses 
no attraction. 

Crawford had felt exactly the same towards 
Marguerite Raymond as he now felt towards 
Claudia Danville. He had loved his wife 
with all the strength of his twenty-three years. 
He still loved her tenderly, and Duncan, his 
bonny boy, was the joy of his existence. And 
not for worlds would he have brought sorrow 
to either of them. Was that to say that his 
heart must remain sealed to any other affec- 
tion? His artistic temperament seemed to re- 
bel against any such suggestion, to negative any 
tendency which might restrict his perfect free- 
dom of thought and action. Does not a father 
who has four children love them all com- 
pletely, with all the fervor, with every fiber 
of his paternal being? And yet would not 
one be surprised to hear that a man could love 
four women simultaneously, with all his 
heart? 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 93 

Crawford returned to New York with the 
fixed idea of paying court to Claudia. He did 
not want her to pass out of his sight. His 
dignity would not admit of such a thing. One 
never knows how much, in this complex senti- 
ment which urges a man to court a woman, 
should be attributed to pride, and how much 
to love. 

Claudia had not kept the various appoint- 
ments he had made, and the fact had hurt, 
though not discouraged him. The first day 
he had waited for her an hour; the second, 
three-quarters; the third, only half-an-hour. 
This was the reason, therefore, Claudia had 
not seen him when she had gone to the chapel 
of the Basilica with Louis and Louise. 

But when, in the company of a singer for 
whom he did not care two straws, picked up 
in a Quebec cafe, he had seen Mrs. Danville 
blush, when he had heard the husband make 
the interesting remark referring to the visit to 
the chapel, at the time fixed for the rendez- 
vous, Crawford’s nostrils had quivered imper- 
ceptibly, like a good hound recovering an old 
scent. Mrs. Danville was still his. The seed 


94 


THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


of love he had planted on that memorable Sun- 
day evening still lived and flourished, and 
would doubtless accomplish its natural evolu- 
tion, bursting into bloom before it withered 
away and died. 

Crawford lived in New York, on Forty- 
fourth Street. He occupied an apartment in 
a hotel just west of Fifth Avenue. 

He arrived home at eight o’clock in the 
morning, on October 9th, after a night of in- 
somnia and blissful anticipation. His wife 
and son would be staying at Stockbridge for 
another three days. 

As soon as he had shaken off the dust of the 
journey he dressed and went out. 

He knew Claudia’s address in the West Sev- 
enties. Danville had reminded him of the 
fact in his farewell letter. He hailed a cab, 
and drove north. 

He stopped the driver at No. — , in West 
Seventy-eighth Street. There was a hotel al- 
most opposite, and he entered the cafe, and 
while apparently sipping a suspicious-looking 
beverage, attentively examined the establish- 
ment where Mrs. Danville resided. 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 95 

It was a tall five-storied building, in every 
way an exact counterpart of the other houses 
in this immediate vicinity. The apartments 
looked very spacious and comfortable, each 
one being fitted with seven windows, looking 
out upon the street. One floor — the third — 
was to let ; two others — the first and the fifth 
— had their shutters closed, a sign that the oc- 
cupants were still away on their holidays. 
Therefore Mrs. Danville must occupy either 
the second or the fourth. 

Crawford went out to pay the driver his 
fare, and then returned to the cafe, and or- 
dered another drink. He stayed three hours 
in this cafe, with neck outstretched, and im- 
patient eyes. None of the passers-by could 
see him there. An embroidered muslin cur- 
tain hid him from all curious glances from 
outside. Motionless, holding in his hands a 
newspaper of which he had not even read the 
title, he continued to examine the mysterious 
windows of the two floors opposite. 

He came again in the afternoon, and again 
the next day; but not a glimpse of Mrs. Dan- 
ville did he obtain. 


96 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

Occasionally a woman entered or left the 
house. Was it she? The greater part of the 
time he could not even tell whether the per- 
son was dark or fair, young or old. And 
he became quite exhausted with hope de- 
ferred. 

Would she never show herself at one of those 
implacable windows? If she really thought 
about him at all — and it was impossible that 
Claudia’s thoughts should not return occasion- 
ally to Quebec and Montmorency — could she 
not divine that he was there, quite close to her, 
distracted at not seeing her? 

Thus Crawford’s longing hourly increased. 
He knew from experience that the first days 
of a society intrigue are the most dangerous. 
The fever of waiting, the furious desire for 
the climax, make even the most discreet com- 
mit indiscretions. Even he had to pull him- 
self together sharply to prevent himself rush- 
ing into that house of mystery, and shouting 
aloud to Mrs. Danville: 

“ It is I ! I love you! I have been waiting 
for you for three whole days ! ” 

But a small modicum of reason still re- 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 97 

mained to him, and he therefore told him- 
self: 

“No, everyone thinks I am at Quebec. I 
must still wait here for some time, and then I 
shall only be permitted to see her on a Tues- 
day, her ‘ At Home ’ day, and when I do see 
her I shall only be able to hold her fingers 
for half-a-second in my gloved hand. Then 
I shall have to sit down, and listen with a sym- 
pathetic expression to the conversation of peo- 
ple I know nothing about, who, like myself, 
will be sitting around her making amiable 
grimaces and talking nonsense 1” 

Glancing at a calendar he found he could 
not decently present himself at the Danville 
establishment before Tuesday, October 1 5th. 

Nevertheless, he seized this very first op- 
portunity, and went. It was raining. New 
York seemed wrapped in gloom. Crawford 
was quite joyful. 

“Perhaps she will be alone 1” he thought 
hopefully. 

At four o’clock he found himself at last be- 
fore the front door of the house. 

He had once more assumed his impenetrable 


98 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

mask. His mouth was quite firm, and in a 
well-modulated voice he asked the hall- 
boy: — 

“Mrs. Danville, please?” 

“ The second floor.” 

As he rode up in the elevator he felt as 
though his limbs were giving way beneath 
him. He was afraid he might look too pale. 
But a mirror reassured him. And to his black 
hair, slightly disarranged by his hat, he gave 
the handsome, cavalier-like twist, which his 
friends openly jeered at, but which others per- 
haps inwardly admired. 

Nevertheless, it was not without violent 
emotion that he pressed his fingers to the but- 
ton of the electric bell. 

“ Oh, I have never loved like this ! ” he told 
himself, forgetting that he had made the same 
mental observation elsewhere, outside doors of 
oak, and mahogany, and walnut, and perhaps 
even deal. 

A servant in a black coat relieved him of his 
umbrella, helped him to remove his overcoat, 
and, passing through the vestibule, raised a 
heavy portiere. 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 99 

Then Crawford saw her, the woman who, a 
fortnight ago, had given him her lips. 

The room was rather dark, but she sat near 
one of the windows, and he could discern her 
dark silhouette standing out from the shadows. 
She rose to greet him ; perhaps she turned pale, 
but it was impossible to tell. And her little 
bare hand did not tremble in the light gray 
kid glove of her visitor. 

“ Oh! it’s you, Mr. Crawford! ” 

She said the words very conventionally, 
with just the right shade of welcome in her 
voice. And the two lady visitors, to whom 
she introduced the composer, bowed with that 
imperceptible nod which is the correct saluta- 
tion to a stranger. 

And they talked of art, of hypnotism, of 
popular tenors, of toy dogs. 

Beneath his polite society smile Crawford 
was profoundly unhappy. Though he did 
not like to permit himself to cherish illusions, 
he had not anticipated such a disappointing 
interview. 

And when the attention of the lady guests 
was withdrawn from himself he was able 


100 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


to examine Mrs. Danville attentively. He 
found no resppnsive gleam in her gray eyes. 

The two ladies left together, and Roger 
Crawford felt a heavy weight at his heart. 
So they would be alone in a tete-a-tete, and in 
a few moments would probably be decided the 
issue of that delicate intrigue which might 
either grow into an ardent passion, or which 
might now terminate in dull friendship, if not 
mutual disdain. 

“How dull it is!” said Claudia, coming 
back to Crawford after taking leave of her 
friends. “ Won’t you sit down for a while? ” 
And, without looking at him, she continued. 
“ My daughter is at her drawing lesson, and 
as for my husband, business keeps him away 
from home for a great part of the day.” 

As she spoke she made as if to sit down on 
a low chair near Crawford’s own; then, with 
a light jingle of slender gold bangles, she 
passed on to a big arm-chair a little further 
away. 

Crawford, in his low, musical voice, spoke 
of Louise and Danville ; and, having been duly 
informed of the state of their health, he took 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD ioi 


up his hat with that uncompleted gesture 
which signifies all the world over: “You 
know I am going now.” 

But Claudia had risen from her chair. 

“ May I offer you a little sherry? ” 

She moved towards a small table, where 
shone the silver stopper of a decanter, and, 
pouring out a glass of wine, handed it to 
Crawford. He noticed the exquisite poise of 
her hand, over which the blue decanter cast 
a soft aureole of azure. And he might even 
have carried it to his lips, in spite of the gloom- 
iness of the weather and the surroundings, if 
Mrs. Danville had not handed him, in most 
prosaic fashion, with the other hand, a dish of 
pastries. 

He drank, he ate; and his eyes betrayed 
nothing of the awful disappointment in his 
heart. And Claudia talked volubly and wit- 
tily of everything under the sun. 

And it was this circumstance in particular 
which discouraged Crawford. He knew that 
keen wit and passion seldom go together. 
Love, from the intellectual point of view, 
brings women to the same level. It lends wit 


102 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


to the simple-minded ones, and takes it away 
from those who possess it. Mrs. Danville 
should have been artless and simple. 

He rose, and Claudia’s voice seemed pitched 
in a slightly lower key, as she asked : — 

“ Do you care for pictures? ” 

And she invited him to pass into the next 
room, where shone the great gilt frames. 

She showed him many costly canvases, a 
Gustave Courbet, a Gustave Moreau, and 
other Gustaves who happened to be a la mode. 
As he stood before each picture Crawford 
found without the slightest difficulty just the 
right thing to say, just the sort of common- 
place, admiring compliment so dear to the 
heart of an intelligent collector. 

They examined in this fashion a dozen pic- 
tures, four or five bronzes, and two or three 
statuettes. And all the time both spoke in 
lowered, somewhat mournful voices, which 
seemed to die away in their throats. 

They never drew near each other, their eyes 
did not once meet; they were afraid to be sin- 
cere. And when Crawford bowed a final fare- 
well, the tone of Claudia’s voice seemed to 


IMPRESSIONABLE CRAWFORD 103 

change once more. But she smiled as she 
turned to him saying: — 

> “Till next Tuesday, then?” 

And as she went with him to the door, she 
pointed out to him a little ivory Virgin, and an 
ormolu Buddha. 

But the delays were only slight, and he was 
going . . . going . . . and they discovered 
then that they wanted to talk of literature. 
But they had reached the vestibule. It was 
still raining. Crawford bowed. 

“ Then, on Tuesday? ” repeated Claudia. 

And the door of the vestibule closed with a 
little hollow sound. 

But as he was slowly getting into his over- 
coat — the process seemed to take an uncon- 
scionable time — he saw the dining-room door 
suddenly open again. 

“It just struck me, Mr. Crawford; have 
you a cab at the door? Shall I have one 
called?” 

He smiled his thanks, and bowed again as 
he took up his umbrella. 

“ Thank you, Mrs. Danville.” 

And he hurried downstairs with a longing 


104 THE fruit of folly 

to dash his head against the wall. But he had 
only got a little way down when he trembled 
as the sound of a piano reached his ears. 
Someone upstairs had just begun to play, and 
the first notes overwhelmed the heart of the 
musician. Was it not the prelude to his own 
melody? 

He stopped and half-turned, mechanically, 
as if to retrace his steps. 

Had he heard aright? Or was it only 
fancy, only a consoling error of his imagina- 
tion? 

He waited a moment. The music did not 
begin again. And Crawford slowly began to 
descend once more the wide, silent staircase. 

As soon as he reached the street, he raised 
his eyes furtively to the second story; and he 
quite thought he saw a corner of the window 
curtain raised and then dropped again. But 
it was perhaps some idle servant looking out 
at the falling rain. 


CHAPTER VI 
THE DAWN OF LOVE 


A mighty pain to love it is, 

And ’tis a pain that pain to miss; 

But of all pains, the greatest pain 
It is to love, but love in vain. 

Abraham Cowley. 

On the following Saturday Crawford went 
again to the hotel cafe in West Seventy-eighth 
Street, near the Danvilles’ apartment, and 
made a pretense of reading a newspaper. 
Something still called him to Claudia’s side; 
one last ray of hope still remained to him. 
Those few bars upon the piano reechoing on 
the landing, had left a long, harmonious vibra- 
tion in his memory. The more he thought of it, 
the more he became convinced that the music 
came from the second story, and that those 
four or five confused notes heard whilst his 
head was in a whirl, belonged to his “ Song of 
the Roses.” 


io6 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


“ She will have repented by now,”' he 
thought, feeling that he might consider this 
musical exercise in the same light as those 
postscripts to lovers’ letters, which proclaim 
in one line: “ I' love you still!” when they 
have declared in two pages : “ All is over be- 

tween us ! ” 

So, on the Saturday, at about three o’clock, 
Crawford suddenly trembled as he gazed at 
the house opposite. Claudia and Louise had 
just come out and were walking in the direc- 
tion of the Park. 

Crawford rose, paid his bill, left the cafe, 
followed the wife and daughter at a convenient 
distance, and saw them get into a taxicab. 

Mrs. Danville turned her back after having 
given an address to the driver. 

Had she seen Crawford? Evidently yes, 
for she looked back again in the direction of 
her home, just as the cab was turning down 
Central Park West. 

And suddenly, Claudia turned to Louise, 
and said: — 

“ I have forgotten to bring a handkerchief! 
Chauffeur! — ” 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


107 

“I’ll lend y.ou mine, Mamma! It isn’t 
worth while going back to the house ! ” 

Claudia inwardly scolded herself for her 
clumsiness. Then, with a happier inspiration, 
she went on : — 

“ And I see, too, that I haven’t brought 
enough money with me. . . . Take my keys, 
and go back home. Bring me a handkerchief 
and fifteen or twenty dollars. Go in the taxi, 
I’ll wait for you here; or no, a block up the 
street, by the church-steps. Go now.” 

The young girl did not care to make any 
more objections. She obeyed and Claudia 
sprang lightly to the ground. 

I “ Go now, my dear ! ” 

Thus Claudia was able to retrace her steps, 
walk past Crawford, who had already turned 
the corner, without looking at him, and ex- 
claim in tones of astonishment, with quite a 
natural blush, when the composer bowed to 
her, “You! I am waiting for my daughter; 
just imagine! I forgot . . .” 

She entered into a too elaborate explanation 
for Crawford to be taken in by her pleasing 
little stratagem. And he felt very happy as he 


io8 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


walked away with her, beneath the fading 
trees, whose last leaves were fluttering to the 
ground in the heavy wind. 

They both trembled slightly and spoke with- 
out hearing each other. He was thinking how 
very beautiful she was, with her pale, wide 
brow, her mobile mouth, her chin, like that of 
a laughing child, and her tall, rounded figure, 
whose exquisite proportions were a delight to 
the eye. And he realized that that center of 
attraction which at first, in this woman, he 
had placed so highly, showed a continual tend- 
ency to become lowered. 

She, not daring to look at her companion, 
was probably thinking that Crawford’s voice 
contained a still more caressing note than on 
that night of folly when they had walked side 
by side on a hill in the Canadian country. 
And she glanced in the direction of Seventy- 
eighth Street, with the unacknowledged fear 
of seeing Louise returning too soon. 

“Already!” Refrain from uttering this 
exclamation she could not, as she recognized 
in the distance the light hat her daughter wore. 

And then, raising her eyes to Crawford’s, she 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


109 

suddenly shivered. But the next instant she 
had recovered her self-possession, and was 
smiling up at him. 

“ You won’t forget my Tuesdays, will you? ” 

She walked rapidly away towards the taxi- 
cab, with a timid pressure of the hand, which 
seemed at the same time gently to repulse him, 
and to signify: — 

“ Stay there ! My daughter might see you.” 

And Crawford’s eyes seemed to melt with 
tenderness as he watched that vanishing figure. 
And a delicious shudder swept through his 
limbs as though he had felt himself suddenly 
transported to the sweet threshold of recipro- 
cated love. 

The next day, Sunday, he resolutely pre- 
sented himself at the house in West Seventy- 
eighth Street. He had not closed his eyes all 
night. 

“ Is Mr. Danville at home? ” he asked of the 
valet. 

“Yes, sir.” And Crawford was ushered 
into the drawing-room. He would certainly 
have preferred a different answer; but he had 
foreseen everything. 


IIO THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


“ How are you, my dear friend? ” 

Danville entered the room with a most cor- 
dial air and welcomed Crawford with a hearty 
hand-shake. 

“ I am very glad to see you ; my wife told 
me of your recent visit; I was sorry not to 
have been at home. So you have returned 
from Quebec? Charming town! And the 
music?” Then, abruptly, without waiting 
for his visitor to reply, he said to the serv- 
ant: — 

“ James, tell Mrs. Danville that Mr. Craw- 
ford is here. Oh! she will be charmed. We 
often speak of you.” 

And, sitting down at last, after having ex- 
hausted a considerable amount of energy in 
effusions of all sorts, he said: — 

“ You did quite right to come to-day! We 
very seldom go out on a Sunday.” 

When Mrs. Danville had appeared, Craw- 
ford was able to explain the nature of his visit. 
He had been sent by his wife, who was leaving 
again for Stockbridge in a couple of days, but 
who would be very glad, in the interim, to 


THE DAWN OF LOVE m 

make the acquaintance of her husband’s new 
friends. 

“ Could you accord us the great pleasure,” 
he concluded, “ of coming to dine with us, 
quite informally? ” 

“When?” asked Danville. 

“ To-day.” 

He looked at Claudia. 

The latter uttered a timid acquiescence. 

“ Good ! then it is arranged ! ” said Danville. 
“We shall be at your place at seven o’clock. 
Forty-fourth Street, is it not? ” 

“ N umber — . Y ou will bring Miss Louise, 
of course? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

And Crawford, seeing Danville’s hand 
traveling to his watch-pocket, asked : — 

“ Perhaps you have to go out? ” 

“Yes, I am going to fetch my daughter; 
she has been staying with a friend over on the 
Drive since yesterday. If you will just wait 
one moment we’ll go down together.” 
Crawford sat down, and placing his hand in 


1 12 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


his coat pocket, appeared very much absorbed 
for a moment or two, whilst Claudia gave a 
few instructions to her husband in a very low 
voice. 

He rose when Danville was ready, and with 
a charming bow and radiant smile said to 
Claudia, as he walked to the door: — 

“Until this ..evening, then?” 

And he passed into the vestibule. 

Five minutes later the two men separated 
on Broadway. Crawford entered a hotel to 
telephone to his wife, announcing the Dan- 
villes’ acceptance of her invitation. Then he 
walked boldly back to the apartment house 
where the Danvilles lived, entered, and rode 
up to the second floor. 

“ Mrs. Danville has not by any chance come 
across a pocket-book? ” he asked the valet. 

“ I don’t know, sir,” replied the man, “ but 
I’ll inquire.” 

Mrs. Danville appeared at once. She 
trembled, and could not find a word to say. 
Crawford explained in a halting voice, which 
issued somewhat painfully from his dry lips, 
that he had been careless enough to drop his 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


113 

pocket-book, and had discovered his loss im- 
mediately after leaving Mr. Danville: that he 
was more than sorry to trouble her, etc., etc. 

“ Here it is, sir,” the servant announced 
triumphantly, as he picked up the article 
which he had discovered under a small table, 
near a very low footstool. 

“ Oh ! thanks ! I am fortunate ! ” mur- 
mured the composer. “ It must have fallen 
out of my pocket when I sat down. Yes, I am 
fortunate. . . There were . . 

He plunged into a series of explanations suf- 
ficiently detailed to permit the servant to re- 
tire, and then found himself alone with 
Claudia. 

It was a fine day, and the street was full of 
Sabbath silence. Only the light ticking of a 
small clock, the hands of which pointed to 
half-past three, was audible, on the corner of 
a table. 

“ You are going now? ” asked the young 
wife. 

He did not go. He was examining a water- 
color sketch with dazed eyes, which saw noth- 
ing. And he thought how ridiculous he must 


1 1 4 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

appear awkwardly holding his silk hat as if he 
did not know what to do with it. His lips 
quivered. Was it for this he had returned, 
that he had renewed that old trick of the lost 
pocket-book? For an instant he asked him- 
self if he should not snatch this pretty woman 
up suddenly in his arms, and press his lips to 
the coils of her dark hair, without a word. 
The blood rushed to his forehead, and the 
veins above his temples throbbed madly. 

“ Until this evening, then? ” he murmured, 
in a very low voice. 

But he could not tear himself away. And 
seeing her sit down at the piano, he crossed 
over to her side. 

Claudia was silent; her hands trembled; 
she was pale, and, indeed, looked almost ill. 
She looked through some music, and suddenly, 
with a sympathetic smile, showed Crawford 
his own melody. 

And Crawford, in his turn, answered with a 
smile of joy, as he murmured gently: — 

“ Then, it was you who was playing the 
piano, last Tuesday, after my visit? ” 

The young wife’s lips made no reply. But 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


”5 

her eyes looked at him for an instant; then her 
eyelids fell, but not before revealing a suspi- 
cious glitter which looked remarkably like 
tears. 

“ Ohl God! ” said Crawford, “ it must be a 
dream!” 

He pressed his ardent lips to those closed 
eyes. 

“ Claudia!” 

She rose. 

“ Go away! Go away! ” 

But he had only to touch her fingers, and she 
fell back again into a chair, hiding her face 
in her hands. 

He sat down close to her, and spoke to her 
in a very gentle whisper, and his words were 
so eloquent that his heart seemed to tremble on 
his lips. He drew nearer, quivering with 
tenderest love. He drew nearer still : he took 
one of her hands in his, and a wave of intoxica- 
tion swept through him at this contact. 

“Claudia! Claudia!” he murmured, his 
voice husky with excitement. And putting 
an arm round her neck, he drew her to him. 
And their lips met in a sigh of love. 


n6 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


But Claudia started back. 

“No!” she said, “never do that again. 
Listen : it is awful to have to make such a con- 
fession, but I must. I love you dearly. Oh I 
yes, with all my heart and soul. I love you to 
the point of madness. I do not know how it 
has happened. Perhaps I have loved you 
long since, without knowing it. All that I 
know is that since that night at Montmorency 
there has not been a single hour when I have 
not thought of you. I am the most unfor- 
tunate of women ! Oh ! if you only knew how 
I love you ! Oh ! I am going to cry ... you 
must let me ... it does me good. Don’t 
take any notice, I am very emotional ; the least 
thing makes me cry.” 

He did not attempt to embrace her again, 
to fold her close to his breast. There are di- 
vine moments at the dawn of love, when a mere 
contact of the fingers is the greatest happiness. 
He simply gazed at her, charmed, enraptured. 
It was Paradise merely to hold her hand. He 
felt as though he had never loved more than 
at this moment. 

“ But,” Claudia was saying, “ though I love 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


ii 7 

you, I love my husband also ; he, too, loves me, 
and I shall never betray him.” 

He understood. He looked at her with 
his sad, ardent eyes. And this avowal of 
Claudia’s seemed to re-open the volcanoes of 
love within him. No! He had been mis- 
taken! He loved her alone! And he had 
never realized it so completely as in that mo- 
ment. 

“ Claudia! ” he called softly. 

And his arms were outstretched towards that 
bosom, trembling beneath the corsage of her 
gown. 

She pushed him away. 

“ Never! ” she repeated. “ Never! I would 
rather die than let your lips touch mine 
again! ” 

She was sincere. In vain did he beseech 
and implore, in vain did he gaze at her with 
adoring eyes of love. 

“ And my husband? ” she said. “ And my 
daughter? ” 

“ They will never know! ” 

“ But I shall know!” 

“ Claudia, do you really love me? ” 


1 1 8 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

She sighed ; she took both his hands in hers, 
and she opened her eyes wide as she gazed into 
Crawford’s own, as if she would fain have laid 
bare her inmost heart. 

“Well then, if you do?” he whispered in 
her ear. 

She read his love in his shining eyes. She 
bent her head, she blushed, she pressed her 
lover’s hand with a despairing gesture; and 
with lowered eyelids, her voice quivering with 
shame, she murmured : — 

“ But we are both married! ” 

He smiled; and with a furtive shrug of the 
shoulders, seemed to say: — 

“ Child!” 

With her eyes still closed, in a still lower 
voice, she continued : — 

“But it can’t be! it can’t! What would 
people say? ” 

She descried the same smile on Crawford’s 
countenance. And this time, perhaps, it was 
her innate sense of virtue which made her 
blush. She raised her head, opened her eyes, 
and throwing her half-bare arms round his 
neck, she cried : — 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


1 19 

“ Oh! if I had only known you in time! If 
I only had ! ” 

He felt a thrill of victory at this sign of 
love ; he realized that it would be useless for 
her to argue; some day, and that day not far 
distant, she would be his. 

Claudia read his thoughts, and her pride 
was wounded. 

“ Go away! ” she said. 

He tried to kiss her, but she refused, fearing 
lest a servant might enter abruptly, or be lis- 
tening at the door. And having manifested 
too much tenderness, pretended to have grown 
suddenly as hard as stone. 

And in spite of Crawford’s silent imploring 
with those beseeching eyes, she remained ada- 
mantine, repeating: — 

“Never! Besides, even if I wanted to 
elope, I could not! I am never free! ” 

“ Do you mean that? ” he asked. 

And the sorrow in his face touched the 
young wife. 

“Yes, I mean it!” she replied, in all sin- 
cerity. 

And then, growing once more sad and 


120 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


thoughtful, she took Crawford’s head in her 
hands, and stroked it tenderly. 

In love virtuous women more easily over- 
step the bounds of prudence. 

“Go! Go now!” 

She opened the door herself. And Roger 
walked stealthily away, still feeling in imagi- 
nation the touch of those trembling hands. 

This time Claudia did not raise the curtain 
to see him pass. She dropped into an arm- 
chair, clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and 
gave herself up to her thoughts. 

She was very happy. She felt surrounded 
by an atmosphere of strange, indefinable joy, 
and from time to time she pressed her clasped 
hands together more tightly, as if she had still 
been holding the hand of Roger Crawford in 
her own. Oh ! a little of him was still there in 
the room with her! a little of her grave, hand- 
some lover! The tones of his voice, the im- 
perceptible odor that had emanated from that 
dark head, odor which clings so obstinately 
to the nostrils of the lover, seemed to fill the 
room; and Claudia’s lips parted in loving 
longing, as though she would have fain drunk 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


121 


in the magic moisture of that kiss by the Falls 
of Montmorency. 

The minutes fled, but Love takes no account 
of time. There are years which are so sweet 
after years of emptiness! Even a centenarian 
scarcely lives more than a few hours; the art 
is in merely filling up the time. The moments 
Claudia lived through after Crawford’s de- 
parture filled her heart as if they had been so 
many months. More than once, with lowered 
eyelids and quickened breath, she murmured 
his name : “ Roger! ” And with each utter- 
ance her thoughts sang the praises of the be- 
loved one. 

He was handsome, strong, kind. She saw 
him once again upon the Canadian hillside. 
How proudly that strong right hand of his 
had helped her! And therein lay, perhaps, 
the secret of this conquest: — Crawford had 
revealed his strength. And it is the same 
power, perhaps, which will always enchant 
women, be they intelligent or simple-minded, 
civilized beings or savages; the power of 
muscle. She rose suddenly, and taking up 
the melody, which still lay on the piano, she 


122 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


kissed with a long sigh of adoration, the 
sacred spot where he had placed his signature. 
What torments had she suffered since the hour 
when he had written that dedication! What 
attempts at resistance, what efforts of virtue! 
And it had all been delightfully in vain! It 
had all changed to love! . . . She was very 
happy. 

Oh! the sadness of that abrupt departure 
from Quebec! She had speedily realized the 
futility of that flight. On the train she had 
already begun to repent Suppose she never 
saw Crawford again? She had experienced 
some terrible alarms during the first week, 
when her days were spent in remembering and 
regretting. Happily, the nights were sweet; 
Crawford returned to Claudia in her dreams, 
and his presence, alas! was more and more de- 
sired. What a storm of emotion had been 
aroused in her breast, when, on that never-to- 
be-forgotten Tuesday, Crawford in the flesh 
had paid her his first visit? He was there, 
correct, respectful, inwardly fuming. How 
little did the lover of that day resemble the 
lover of the preceding nights. The result of 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


123 

that interview, to which Claudia had looked 
forward with such eager expectation, so many 
sweet hopes, was heart-breakingly common- 
place. 

Why had he come on her reception day, 
and a rainy day too? 

She thought of him from morning till night. 
She had learnt the “ Song of the Roses ” dur- 
ing the railway journey, whilst Louis and 
Louise were asleep. She knew it by heart be- 
fore they arrived at Montreal, and certainly, 
before they reached the Grand Central Sta- 
tion, she could have reproduced an exact fac- 
simile of every letter in the dedication. 

She smiled as she remembered how she had 
thought of Crawford during the whole of that 
long journey, and regretted that it could not 
last forever. Then, realizing as time went 
on that she became more and more a prey to 
this inexplicable passion, she had resolved to 
reconcile herself to the thought. Yes, she 
would love Crawford in Platonic fashion; as 
her mind could fix itself upon no other sub- 
ject, she would permit herself to think of him ; 
it would be a beautiful sentiment, highly 


124 THE fruit of folly 

mystical, and exceedingly pure ; thus it would 
only be a very venial fault. 

And she really did intend, faithfully, and in 
all sincerity, to plan a sort of programme, set- 
ting forth the limits of that idyllic attachment. 
She would see Crawford often, she would per- 
mit him long handclasps, she would allow him 
to hold tender, sympathetic conversations with 
her, and sometimes, behind a door or in a dark 
window, he might kiss her brow, or very oc- 
casionally her cheek; perhaps on Sunday he 
should be permitted to touch her neck with 
his lips! But that would be all, practically 
all. 

But, on that day, when Crawford had re- 
turned to the house, with the excuse of the 
lost pocket-book, Claudia had been slightly 
confused. She had already taken his head in 
her hands to press it against her heart; the 
programme had certainly not been too rigidly 
observed! 

Thus, in order to punish herself, she rose, 
and with an instinctive shrug of the shoulders, 
walked up and down the room as if she would 
shake off the subtle spell of Crawford’s 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 125 

memory. She walked about singing, opening 
doors and drawers, taking up newspapers, and 
turning over the leaves of one or two books. 
Her nerves seemed on the alert. Strange 
thoughts whirled through her brain. She 
looked at the clock; half-past five! She 
would see her lover once more before that 
needle had described two of those tiny circles! 
She went to her room to dress. She perfumed 
and powdered as in a dream, as though it were 
to a lover’s rendezvous she was going instead 
of to dine with friends. Danville returned 
at six o’clock; Louise had a bouquet for her 
mother. The latter kissed Louise and her 
husband with tender, caressing lips; and she 
noticed in the long pier glass, as she was 
powdering her neck, that she had not changed 
color. 

They were ready too soon. They left the 
house at half-past six, and at a quarter to seven 
the cab dropped them in Forty-fourth Street. 

Claudia wanted to take a turn round the 
block. Dusk had fallen; it was quite mild, 
and Claudia leaned heavily against her hus- 
band as she walked up and down outside her 


126 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

lover’s door. She studied the neighborhood, 
and was happy in the thought that Crawford’s 
eyes had roamed over the same objects. 

They were lighting the gas. Every minute 
a yellow star was added to the long row of 
yellow stars already lit. 

And Claudia’s heart beat more rapidly 
when they rode up in the elevator to the sixth 
floor. She quivered with impatience ; she was 
going to see her at last, this Mrs. Crawford, 
of whom she had been so jealous. 

Marguerite Crawford was a little woman of 
twenty-five, white, plump, timid, with a light 
of purity and honesty shining in her eyes that 
was good to see. She blushed on Mrs. Dan- 
ville’s arrival, and went to fetch her son, a 
flourishing young gentleman of four summers, 
that she might have some employment for her 
hands, which seemed as if they were not at 
ease lying idle in her lap. And as soon as 
she saw Crawford’s child, Claudia kissed him 
full on the mouth, thinking that a baby al- 
most the same as this might have been her son, 
if Fate had so ordained. 

“ What is your name, little man? ” 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


127 

Very gravely, the child replied : — “ Duncan 
Crawford.” 

And the kissing began again, whilst the eyes 
of the little mamma shone with pride. 

Mrs. Crawford began to talk about her son 
and heir with the abundant serenity of young 
mothers; she told of his prowess and pro- 
claimed his talents; she made him read, and 
sing, and play hide-and-seek. And Claudia’s 
kisses on the little one’s soft cheeks grew more 
and more sad. And after a time she dared 
kiss him no more. Why was it? Perhaps 
even she herself could not have said why, in 
so many words! She looked at Crawford’s 
wife, and felt very much troubled. 

She had not pictured this artist’s home like 
this. She had expected to find a vulgar wife 
and a badly brought-up child, furniture in the 
worst of bad taste. But there was nothing of 
that. The wife was simple, sympathetic, and 
pretty. And by the sound of her voice, by the 
look of resigned adoration in her eyes when 
she spoke to her husband, her immense love 
for Crawford was plainly revealed. And the 
sight filled Claudia with sadness, and there 


128 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


was a strange pain at her heart. At dinner 
she had scarcely any appetite. She had been 
dwelling upon the immense happiness which 
would be hers in living, only for two or three 
hours, amidst the unknown beings and un- 
known objects which composed Crawford’s 
surroundings. But instead of feeling happy, 
she was filled with ineffable sadness. Silently, 
sadly, she looked first at Louise, then at Louis ; 
and bygone memories, sacred and sad, re- 
turned to her. There was a kind, friendly 
note in Crawford’s voice whenever he ad- 
dressed his wife, and his eyes shone with 
pride every time he looked at his son. Several 
times he took little Duncan on his knees. He 
gave him tidbits from his own plate, peeled 
an orange for him, cracked his nuts, and 
generally lavished little paternal attentions 
upon him. As Claudia watched him, she was 
conscious of a vague feeling of resentment. 

After dinner, Mrs. Crawford spoke of her 
mother, of her childhood, of her native town. 
And she showed the Danvilles several portraits 
of her husband, of her child, of her relatives in 
Stockb ridge. She smiled when she exhibited 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


129 

one photograph of herself, in her white wed- 
ding-gown, leaning heavily on her bride- 
groom’s arm. And her voice trembled 
slightly when she pointed to the portrait of a 
pale babe, who looked as though it lay sleeping 
on a pillow. 

“Our Jeannette!” she said to Mrs. Dan- 
ville. 

And the latter learned that Mrs. Crawford 
had had a second baby, who had died two 
years before. And Claudia could have wept 
with a full heart. 

Then Marguerite — the name of the com- 
poser’s wife suited her to perfection — caught 
up a bundle of exercise books in order to banish 
gloomy thoughts; and she showed her new 
friend page after page of patiently copied 
music, transcribed in wonderfully regular 
notes, beneath letters lovingly rounded. 

“ Roger’s works! ” she said. 

Then, with great pride, she added, “ I 
transcribe them all myself ! ” 

And later, when the little boy, sitting by his 
father’s side rubbed his eyes with his tired 
hands, Marguerite excused herself, took the 


i 3 o THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

child up in her arms and carried him off to 
bed like a good little housewife and mother, 
very happy to become the humble servant of 
her son and heir. And Claudia remembered 
the dear days when she had rocked Louise to 
sleep. 

And whilst Crawford came up to her to 
keep her company, with a smile on his lips 
and in his eyes, in which there shone, too, 
a great light of love, she heard a hesitating, 
childish voice, a baby voice, which seemed 
to be saying a prayer, on the other side of 
the wall. And that little voice was lisping : — 

“ Dear God . . . make papa . . . and 
mamma . . . and . . . little Duncan, well 
and happy . . . and . . . and all the 
family 1 ” 

And Claudia unconsciously stiffened 
when she felt Roger’s foot gently touch her 
own. 

Just then the hall bell rang, and the maid 
went to open the door to two old people: a 
man, white-haired and clean-shaven, a pale 
and bent old lady, whom Crawford tenderly 
embraced. They were his father and mother, 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


131 

who made a point of spending Sunday even- 
ing with Roger. Having been duly informed 
that Master Duncan was being put to bed, 
they both went into the next room to see him, 
and the sound of their sweet, trembling 
laughter soon became audible, accompanied 
by the joyful shrieks of the small grandson. 

“Claudia, I love you!” whispered Craw- 
ford, profiting by a moment when Danville 
was going into ecstasies over an album with 
Louise. 

Presently the old people returned to the 
drawing-room, with their daughter-in-law. 
And Claudia could not help trembling at the 
sight of that old attorney, with his severe bear- 
ing, and his air of reserve, and at the sight, 
too, of the little lady with her blue eyes, who 
seemed the withered image of her good-look- 
ing son. She felt as though she would fain 
have flown from the spot. 

Roger, under pretext of showing her an 
engraving, momentarily placed a sheet of 
paper beneath her eyes on which he had 
written, in his bold hand : — 

“ Claudia, I implore you, come to see me 


i 3 2 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

the day after to-morrow; my wife will be at 
Lakewood.” 

After reading the message she looked at 
him. And with her eyes full of shame she 
murmured : 

“ Oh ! no I . . . not now . . . never . . . 
never! ” 

He could not conceal his bitter disappoint- 
ment, and it was in saddened- tones and with 
a deep line on his forehead that he walked 
away to rejoin his father. 

Meanwhile, Marguerite had come to speak 
to Claudia, and with her sweet, pleasant smile, 
was opening a big blue exercise book in which 
she had gummed newspaper paragraphs. 

“ All that concerns Roger! ” she explained. 
“ Don’t read it. They have said such horrid 
things.” 

She spoke of her husband too often, whom, 
in her artless worship, she considered as a 
great man. She confided to Claudia’s sympa- 
thetic ear plans long cherished, marvelous 
plans which would be realized some day when 
Roger’s comic opera had been accepted. 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


133 

It was not until a quarter of an hour later 
that Crawford was able to say to Mrs. Dan- 
ville, in a window recess : — 

“ Why won’t you come here again the day 
after to-morrow? Claudia, I am ill with 
longing. Come!” 

She shook her head and tried to escape. 

“ But why not? ” he persisted. 

In order to avoid going into long explana- 
tions, she replied : — 

“ I cannot. I never go out without my 
husband.” 

Having rejoined Mrs. Crawford, she had 
to promise the latter that she would go to 
Stockbridge in the Spring-time. 

“ My mother will be simply delighted to 
see you,” said Marguerite. 

Danville and Louise were talking with 
Roger. They were telling him, amongst 
other things, that they would be going to the 
aviation meet the following day. And strange 
tears came into Crawford’s eyes. 

Claudia saw him coming back to her, and 
she hardened her heart 


i 3 4 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ It is very late,” she said, rising from her 
chair, and trying not to meet Crawford’s 
eyes. She bowed politely to the two old 
people, and gave her cold hands to Mar- 
guerite, saying: “ I am at home every Tues- 
day, Mrs. Crawford. May I hope to have 
the pleasure — ” 

Her voice faltered ; her limbs felt as though 
they were giving way beneath her ; the muscles 
of her throat contracted. She did not know 
that she had left her sentence unfinished. She 
forced a smile to her lips, and it was as in a 
dream that she passed out into the hall. 

Crawford followed. She wanted to avoid 
him. But he stood waiting to help her on 
with her cloak. And suddenly she heard his 
voice . . . What was that he was saying? 

“You are going to Garden City . . . 
to-morrow . . . with your husband and 
daughter. Lose them in the crowd in the 
Pennsylvania Station, as if by accident. I will 
wait for you outside the entrance in Thirty- 
fourth Street. I love you. ... I love you ! ” 

She trembled, walking into the elevator with 
rapid steps, and she would have been afraid 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


135 

of fainting on the staircase if Louis’ arm had 
not supported her. 


A carriage was waiting at the door. It was 
raining. Claudia shuddered as she placed 
her daintily-shod foot on the step. 

“ What a delightful little household,” Dan- 
ville was saying. “ Did you notice Mr. 
Crawford, senior? He is quite an interesting 
talker, and the elder Mrs. Crawford is a nice 
old lady; she looked as if she simply 
worshipped her son. And young Mrs. Craw- 
ford! What a good little soul! A heart of 
gold, a true heart of gold! ” 

The carriage was rolling along the Avenue. 
It was a quarter-past eleven. Mrs. Danville 
felt the fresh night breeze upon her face. 

“ Would you like me to close the window, 
Claudia?” 

“ Oh, no, thanks! ” 

She uttered the words in an almost plaintive 
voice, and drew a little nearer the open 
window to get more air. She said no more. 
Louise was chattering about little Duncan. 


136 the fruit of folly 

She was already quite fond of him ; she would 
buy him such a pretty toy at Christmas. 

“ And we will go to Stockbridge, won’t we, 
Mamma? ” 

They had arrived home. Louise ran off to 
bed at once. Louis finished reading a Sunday 
paper. 

“ Aren’t you going to bed, then? ” he asked, 
as Claudia slipped into a dressing-gown. 

“No, I have a few letters to write. Don’t 
wait for me.” 

She passed into the dressing-room adjoining 
the bedroom, and when she heard her hus- 
band’s peaceful, regular breathing, she uttered 
a sigh of distress, and all the misery that was 
in her heart was revealed in her countenance 
now that she was alone. 

She sat down and laid her head in her hands. 
She would have wept, but could not. Her 
thoughts were confused, and her head ached 
with the burden of them. Every moment she 
caught herself murmuring the prayers she had 
heard but a little while before on the pure 
lips of a child. “ Please God . . . make 
mamma and papa happy . . .” She could 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


137 

not get the touching petition out of her mind. 
Little Duncan’s childish voice was ever in her 
ears, and she thought of Louise sleeping in the 
next room — her Louise, to whom she, too, 
had taught such prayers in the sweet days that 
were gone. The tears welled up into her eyes 
and trickled slowly down her cheeks. 

“ Oh, no,” she said, “ I shall never belong to 
that man.” 

And she, who had almost forgotten how to 
pray, thanked God for having allowed her in 
His mercy to be present at that little family 
reunion. For she was cured of her guilty 
love, absolutely cured! Never again would 
she allow Crawford’s lips even to touch her 
little finger! 

“ What utter heartlessness ! ” she thought, 
“ to pursue me the whole evening with his 
declarations of love, when his son was praying 
in the next room, when his mother sat looking 
at him, when his wife, with tears in her eyes, 
showed me the portrait of her dead baby girl ! 
What sort of woman does he think I am, to 
betray the friendship of that good, virtuous 
wife? To wrest her husband from her now 


138 the fruit of folly 

that I know her, now that I esteem and admire 
her! I! Oh, he does not respect me any 
more than if I were an utterly abandoned 
woman ! ” 

She ground her teeth, angry both with him 
and with herself. Somehow, she had never 
imagined Crawford’s wife as a virtuous 
woman, nor his father as a venerable old man; 
and certainly it had never occurred to her that 
Crawford’s little son knelt down to say his 
prayers at his mother’s knee. She had rather 
expected to find a vulgar household, which 
she could have regarded with contempt. She 
would not have been displeased to find that 
Crawford treated Marguerite coarsely and 
insultingly, that the latter had bruises on her 
arms, and that she joked with suspicious-look- 
ing characters at street corners. 

Again she heard that voice saying: “To- 
morrow, at the Pennsylvania Station, lose your 
husband in the crowd! . . He had dared 
to say that to her! What sort of man was he? 

She felt very much agitated. This Craw- 
ford was revealed to her in an awful light. 
Could a man rob his friends of their wives and 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


i39 

daughters and yet not be a complete criminal? 
This Crawford, in his own home was a good 
husband, and a devoted father; his conduct 
was irreproachable. Was he not in the eyes 
of everyone a man of honor? And this man 
gave a rendezvous to wives as he shook their 
husbands by the hand ! 

She believed herself to be really disgusted 
with Crawford, and felt very happy in con- 
sequence. 

“ No,” thought Claudia, “ I shall never — 
never belong to him.” 

And to purify herself absolutely, as it were, 
she unlocked an Oriental cabinet standing 
between the two windows, and with almost 
religious solemnity opened a small drawer 
decorated with mother-of-pearl. It was the 
souvenir drawer, the drawer of old yellow 
letters, of faded flowers, of discolored ribbons, 
of a thousand little trifles, both childish and 
sublime, which had accumulated there during 
fifteen years of tender fidelity and simple love, 
and Claudia leaned over this drawer as if to 
inhale the perfume of her virtuous past. She 
turned over the souvenirs with happy fingers, 


140 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

and it seemed to her that these trifling objects, 
these dusty relics, filled her soul and body with 
courage, tenderness, and hope. 

“Oh! why did I not come here before?” 
she murmured reverently as she read a few 
forgotten notes, and inhaled the faint odor of 
old bouquets. She found a single sheet of 
paper bearing a date, and underneath this 
declaration: — 

“ Claudia and Louis have vowed, after hav- 
ing kissed this paper, to love each other for- 
ever, and ever, and ever! ” And to the words 
both had added their signatures in a firm 
hand. 

Claudia had been known on occasion to 
scoff at superstitious women; but she took up 
that piece of yellow paper, which dated from 
the first month of her marriage, and resolved 
that from henceforth it should never leave her 
person. She spent an hour looking at the 
contents of this drawer, and every second 
seemed to make her younger by a day. She 
lived again in that vanished past ; she felt once 
more forgotten emotions : she was twenty-eight 
years old, twenty-five, twenty, and she had 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 141 

never dreamt of loving any other man save 
her husband; and she had never seen Craw- 
ford! 

Then, to complete her cure, she opened a 
large drawer below that sacred to the sou- 
venirs; and from this drawer a strong odor 
of camphor floated up to her nostrils. There, 
all that had belonged to the baby Louise was 
religiously preserved; the little frocks, the 
little shoes, the little bonnets, all the dear 
wardrobe of the first years of childhood. No 
sight is sweeter to a mother who is turning 
gray than that. Claudia, though she had not 
a single gray hair yet, experienced an inde- 
scribable emotion. Oh! why had she not 
opened that precious drawer a few weeks ago? 
A woman would always remain faithful 
to her husband if from time to time she 
looked at the little garments his child had 
worn. 

Claudia recognized the first gloves her little 
girl had ever worn ; tiny gloves in white wool, 
with tassels at the wrist ; oh ! so small, so small. 
She had knitted them herself — yes, though 
half eaten away by moths she recognized them, 


142 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

and she kissed the glove that had contained 
the baby hand of Louise. 

And she uttered a long sigh when she came 
across a miniature robe in velvet, with a little 
leather girdle sewn on to the waist. This had 
been a gift-gown to Louise after a long illness, 
a long and terrible illness, which had almost 
killed her. Oh! the awful memory of it! 
For a whole week Louise had lain unconscious 
— had not recognized her mother, had lain 
quite still, unable to utter a word. And dur- 
ing the first days of her convalescence, her 
voice had not seemed the same, it had been 
such a very feeble voice, such a shadowy, piti- 
ful little voice, and even now, at the thought 
of it, the mother wept. And Claudia re- 
membered how she had gone to church every 
Sunday for a month to ask the Good God in 
Whom all mothers believe when their children 
are ill, that her dear Louise might recover. 

“ And to think that I could have forgotten 
that,” said Claudia, bathed in tears. 

And the buckle of the little belt, too, found 
its way into her pocket as she resolved that 
this also should never leave her. What could 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


*43 

Crawford offer her in comparison with such 
memories as these? Shame, fear, remorse, all 
those perpetual torments that confided to no 
human ear, together with the certitude of be- 
ing one day discovered ; and then death would 
follow. For she feared her husband would 
kill her — she knew his violent, jealous na- 
ture. Once, when she had been to a dance, he 
had suspected a man of having touched her 
shoulder with his lips, and on arriving home 
he had struck her; and the next minute had 
fallen on his knees, imploring her to forgive 
him. 

She had loved him for it. 

Yes, she knew he would kill her. 

And all this would be for the vain pleasure 
of a kiss ; for the perverse sensation of feeling 
another’s embrace; another’s arms around her. 
What blind depravity! Besides, had she not 
tasted all this with Louis? Could the kisses 
of any man be more divine than those she had 
received in the days that were passed? Oh! 
she had forgotten too much. Had not her 
husband been as handsome, as loving, and as 
desirable? Had she not known the most in- 


144 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

timate bliss — had she not thrilled with the 
supremest joy? And, moreover, had not her 
husband accorded to her that which a lover 
would never give her — his perfect esteem 
and affectionate protection? Oh! how mad, 
how blind she had been ! Crawford was ugly 
and cold and dull by the side of that brilliant 
and ardent and clever husband of those by- 
gone years. She remembered the declara- 
tions, the caresses, the devotion — above all, 
she remembered that she had come to Louis 
practically penniless. Was it, then, by be- 
stowing her affection elsewhere that she was 
going to recompense such generous goodness? 
“Never!” she said aloud, and in her simple, 
childlike revolt, feeling it necessary to confirm 
her resolution, to envelop all her fine promises 
with a veil of sacredness, she took up once more 
the faded yellow paper, before which they had 
sworn an eternal love — her husband and her- 
self — and beneath that old-time vow she 
wrote in her fine nervous hand, which had 
changed a little after fifteen years : — 

“ This vow endures still, and will endure 
all the rest of my life.” 


THE DAWN OF LOVE 


145 

And, happy as a schoolgirl, she signed her 
name, “ Claudia,” with a firm hand. 

Suddenly she looked up with a start. 

“ Then you are not coming to bed? ” 

Louis had just entered the room. He drew 
near his wife, and saw that she had been cry- 
ing. 

“ Oh! it’s nothing! ” she said. And, point- 
ing to the open drawer, full of Louise’s dresses, 
she murmured, “ I was ... I was only re- 
membering . . 

“But it is three o’clock! Come, love!” 

“ I’m coming at once.” 

And, taking her husband’s arm, she passed 
into their own room. 


CHAPTER VII 

A fool’s paradise 

First, then, a woman will or won’t, depend on ’t; 

If she will do ’t, she will; and there’s an end on ’t. 

But if she won’t, since safe and sound your trust is, 

Fear is affront, and jealousy injustice. 

Aaron Hill. 

Claudia slept uneasily; she awoke several 
times. At four o’clock, at half-past four, 
and again at six; and each time it was with 
a start that awakened Louis. In her semi-con- 
scious state she heard the rhythmic noise of the 
street-cleaners’ brooms in the street below, the 
clattering of milk-carts, and here and there 
the opening of heavy doors ; and the daylight 
hurt her eyes when it streamed through the 
windows. 

There was a slight mist, but above the roofs 
a rosy gleam appeared in the gray sky. 
Claudia decided to dress at once. Her limbs 

I46 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


H7 

ached, and she felt as weary as though she had 
not slept all night. As she looked at herself 
in the glass it occurred to her that she would 
cut a sorry figure that afternoon at the aviation 
park. Louise was still asleep. Danville 
was getting ready to go out, for every morning 
he visited his offices in Wall Street. 

Claudia tried to swallow some breakfast; 
but she could eat nothing, and the fact upset 
her very much ; her hands trembled nervously; 
now and then her eyelids twitched. She 
noticed that she was pale, that her lips were 
colorless, and that her eyes looked dazed, 
whilst her head felt heavy as lead. 

“ You’ll come back early, won’t you? ” she 
reminded Louis. 

“ Why? ” 

It was with an almost irritable gesture 
that she replied. “ Aren’t we going to the 
meet? ” 

“ Oh! yes,” he said; then after a moment’s 
reflection, he added, “ Suppose we put it off 
till to-morrow? ” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “ To-morrow 
we have a luncheon engagement.” 


148 the fruit of folly 

“Yes, of course, that’s true. Very well, 
I’ll be back at twelve o’clock.” 

Claudia was very anxious to go to Garden 
City. “ What would Crawford think if she 
did not go? ” 

“ He will think it is because I am afraid of 
yielding. I shall go and let him see plainly 
that his attentions leave me absolutely indif- 
ferent to him.” 

Danville was late getting back, and he ex- 
cused himself by observing: — 

“ We are always busier on Monday, you 
know. I had an awful lot of letters this morn- 
ing.” 

At lunch Claudia again had no appetite. 

“ Oh ! it’s nothing . . . only want of sleep,” 
she replied in answer to Danville’s expression 
of concern. 

“Won’t you lie down for a little while?” 

This suggestion exasperated her anew. 
Her whole being was quivering with agitation. 
They must leave the house at one o’clock. 

“Do you think there will be a crowd?” 
she asked. 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


149 

“To-day? Of course, there is always a 
crowd on Monday.” 

The station was packed with people when 
they got there. There were crowds of auto- 
mobiles outside every entrance. The Dan- 
villes’ chauffeur was about to take them to the 
entrance in Thirty-fourth Street, but Mrs. 
Danville ordered him brusquely to drive to 
the entrance in Seventh Avenue. 

“ Give me your arm, Louis,” she said to her 
husband as they entered, and she leant heavily 
on it, feeling as though her limbs were giving 
way beneath her. 

“ Where do we go first? ” asked Louise. 

“ To the ticket-window,” her father an- 
swered. 

They passed on through the wide entrance, 
then downstairs to the place where the Long 
Island trains were to be found. 

“ Oh ! don’t walk so quickly,” said Claudia, 
drawing closer than ever to her husband. 
She was afraid to look about her; the crowd 
was increasing and people were almost knock- 
ing each other over in their haste. 


150 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ Oh ! please don’t go so quickly,” she re- 
peated. 

“ Why not? ” 

Almost in a whisper she replied: “ It is so 
easy to get lost in these crowds 1 ” 

A clock struck two. Claudia seemed to 
breathe with difficulty. 

“ Isn’t this atmosphere stifling? ” she said, 
loosing Louis ’ arm, but after a moment she 
took it again, and looked at him strangely. 

“Louis!” she murmured, gazing at him 
with her heart in her eyes. They clung closer 
to each other’s arms in the surging throng of 
people. 

Another clock indicated ten minutes past 
two. 

Claudia stopped to get her breath for a 
moment, and suddenly became alarmed. 

“ Where are they? . . 

But she found them again, her husband and 
her daughter, behind a tall pillar. Neverthe- 
less, the incident made her tremble violently. 
She felt that she was going to faint. 

A quarter-past two ! 

“ The entrance in Thirty-fourth Street? 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


This way, Madam,” an employe was saying 
to a woman who stood near her. 

When she felt in her pocket for her purse 
Claudia’s fingers did not touch the buckle that 
had held the tiny belt on the baby dress of 
Louise. 

“ Oh! ” she said to her companions, indica- 
ting a small boy, who stood gazing about him 
with wide-open eyes. “ Poor little soul, he 
must be lost, it so easily happens with all these 
people about.” 

Her head was swimming. She passed two 
ladies who bowed to her ; she did not recognize 
them. “ Dear God . . . make mamma and 
papa well and happy . . .” Again the 
words rang in her ears; she repeated them 
inwardly as she gazed dully at the crowd 
about her. 

“Hello!” exclaimed Louis. 

“What is it?” 

“ Oh ! no, I was mistaken. I thought I 
saw . . 

“Whom?” 

“Oh! . . . who is it . . . Crawford?” 

Twenty- five past two ! 


152 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ Come! We can get our train now,” she 
said suddenly. 

She walked on rapidly, straight in front, 
without once looking back; faster and faster, 
now to the right, now to the left, speeding 
on and on. 

“ Come along! come along! ” 

Still she sped on with wildly beating heart 
and dazed eyes, rapidly seeking an exit. 

She turned round. 

“Louis,” she called in a whisper, “Louis! 
. . . Louise! . . . Oh! Heaven!” 

She could see neither her daughter nor her 
husband. She looked about her, retraced her 
steps, sought in every direction . . . She could 
see no sign of them. 

Half-past two! 

Ah! she caught sight of him all at once, 
over there in the crowd. “ Louis! ” 

She wanted to shout “This way!” as she 
raised her umbrella, but she was afraid. 

She would attract too much attention. She 
preferred to rejoin her daughter and husband 
without any disturbance. But soon she lost 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


153 

sight of them again. Pursuit seemed hope- 
less. 

She turned and climbed the stairs to the 
great concourse. Her heart was beating 
wildly as though it would burst. She turned 
toward the right and ascended more stairs. 
She walked toward the door. What was this 
door? It was the entrance from Thirty- 
fourth Street . . . 

“ Claudia ! ” said a voice in her ear. 

And she felt a hand grasp her own. She 
closed her eyes. She thought she was going 
to die. 

“ This way; get in quickly! ” continued the 
voice. 

She followed that voice; she placed her 
foot on the step of the automobile. 

“At last!” sighed Crawford, his eyes full 
of sincere tears of gratitude. They fell into 
each other’s arms; their lips met. The car 
turned through two or three streets and squares 
and finally drew up before a strange house, 
in a sunlit street. Crawford said not a word. 
He opened the carriage door and got out; 


154 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

Claudia followed. He went up a staircase; 
still she followed. With closed eyes she 
passed by groups of men. Crawford opened 
a door. For a moment Claudia was mute; 
her eyes were half closed. Then, “ I love 
you,” she whispered. 

Mrs. Danville was very well satisfied with 
her day. 

She got home at seven o’clock, and was very 
indulgent to the two transgressors who had 
lost her in the crowd at the Pennsylvania Sta- 
tion. She almost forgot to scold her husband 
and her daughter, and related quite gayly the 
story of her vain search for them. 

The evening passed, hardly different from 
any other evening, and night came once more 
to Claudia. 


CHAPTER VIII 
THREATENING CLOUDS 

O curse of marriage, 

That we can call these delicate creatures ours, 

And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad, 

And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, 

Than keep a corner in the thing I love 
For others’ uses. 

Othello . 

It was the month of June. Eight months had 
elapsed since that never-to be-forgotten day 
when Claudia Danville, obeying a vague, ty- 
rannical impulse, had lost her husband and 
daughter in the Pennsylvania Station — eight 
months of passionate love and delirious happi- 
ness for Claudia and her lover. 

It had been a fine, dry Spring, and every 
week the two families, who had by now become 
quite friendly, had taken motor rides together 
along the leafy boulevards. 

One day they went up the Sound on Dan- 
155 


i 5 6 the fruit of folly 

ville’s yacht. At the entrance to Huntington 
Harbor they landed on the point. The coun- 
tryside was a dream of delight; they had an 
impromptu picnic on the grass, and gathered 
wild flowers. 

But at seven o’clock there was a change. 
The heavens were overcast, a heavy bank of 
white clouds floated over the gray sky, and 
melted into a purple haze. The sky grew 
darker and the clouds blacker, until they 
threatened to hide every tiny patch of blue. 
The sun was setting, and in the west, below the 
gray-white curtain of a vast cloud, lay a long 
streak of crimson light, like a bloody sword 
poised upon the horizon. 

Claudia Danville’s eyes were fixed upon 
that blood-red gleam, as she lingered, 
close to her husband’s side, beneath the 
trees. 

“We must hurry back to the boat!” said 
Danville. “ I think we are going to have a 
storm.” 

A brief consultation followed. They de- 
cided to take the boat and turned in the direc- 
tion of the point. 


THREATENING CLOUDS 157 

Danville headed the procession, whilst 
Louise and Marguerite followed close be- 
hind. They would just have time. Duncan 
walked between Claudia and Crawford; the 
poor little boy was very tired, and each of his 
companions held one of his hands. 

Every now and then Danville turned round 
to hurry them on. 

“ Be quick! ” he said. “ I just saw a flash 
of lightning.” 

They reached the tender at last. Mar- 
guerite was carrying a big bunch of wild flow- 
ers, gathered by Claudia and Roger. 

“ We shall get to the hotel pier without 
rain,” declared Danville, who was a good 
weather prophet. 

For a quarter of an hour, during which 
little Duncan amused himself by rapidly 
blinking his eyes to imitate the lightning- 
flashes, the boat came in gently. It was still 
very warm. Dusk was falling. The boat 
forged slowly on with a dull monotonous put- 
put. 

Claudia watched the lightning; each flash 
was more dazzling than the last. She gazed 


158 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

into the night, which grew blacker and blacker 
with every moment that passed. 

Suddenly the thunder grew louder, until the 
hills in the distance seemed to tremble. 

“ It would be just as well to go below now,” 
said Louis. 

Both the ladies protested eagerly. 

“Oh! no; I love it!” Claudia declared. 
“ You go if you like.” 

It ended in all six remaining on deck. As 
yet not a drop of rain had fallen. Danville 
sat by Louise, with his back to the shore ; op- 
posite them were Marguerite and Claudia, 
with little Duncan between them. N ear Clau- 
dia Crawford sat, silently gazing at the clouds. 

Suddenly Claudia uttered a loud “Oh!” 
of mingled fear and surprise. 

A tremendous peal of thunder had burst 
upon them like the roar of artillery, and in- 
stinctively Crawford and Claudia clasped 
hands. Then in the white blinding flash of 
lightning which followed they saw the pale 
face of Danville watching them. 

Everyone stood up, the shock having caused 
an extraordinary commotion. 


THREATENING CLOUDS 159 

“ Let us go down ! ” said Claudia, with a 
look of terror. She was thinking less of that 
terrific peal of thunder than of the look on 
her husband’s face. 

Danville still sat motionless. 

Mrs. Crawford turned to him with an air 
of surprise, and asked : “ Aren’t you coming, 
too? ” 

It was quite ten seconds before he realized 
what she had said, or even that she had spoken 
to him. 

“ Oh ! yes . . . yes . . .” he replied, quiv- 
ering from head to foot. And as he followed 
her down the companionway his knees 
shook. 

The cabin was closed tight. Danville 
leant against the door. The lightning still 
flashed, and by its light he looked at Claudia 
who was no longer at Crawford’s side; Claudia 
who was jumping little Duncan up and down 
on her lap, with little joyful exclamations. 
And he passed his hand across his brow, which 
was covered with sweat. 

He stayed there, saying not a word. He 
seemed terror-stricken. Louise went up to 


160 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

him and made some remark. Still he did not 
stir. 

Claudia and Marguerite were consulting 
together. Where would it be best to get off? 
At the pier? Or had they better wait until 
the storm passed? Crawford went to ask 
Louis’ advice. The latter looked at his friend 
with beast’s eyes. 

It was raining. Here and there, on the 
surface of the bay, a red gleam moved slowly 
over the water — the light of a passing ves- 
sel. They went on deck again. They had 
only one umbrella among the six of them, 
and Claudia refused to remain under shelter 
herself, that she might cover Duncan, Louise, 
and Marguerite. They disembarked at the 
pier, half-drenched by the rain. As they 
walked along the quay, however, the down- 
pour ceased, and a violent wind arose. It was 
half-past nine, and they walked rapidly, reach- 
ing the hotel in safety. 

“Good-by! See you again soon,” Craw- 
ford said, giving Danville his hand, as they 
parted at the Yacht Club slip three hours 


THREATENING CLOUDS 161 


later. The latter held out his own cold hand 
mechanically. 

And as the Danvilles’ cab turned in the di- 
rection of the West Side, Louis felt his wife’s 
hand slipped through his arm. 

She was full of loving little speeches. 

“ What’s the matter with you to-night? ” 
she asked with affectionate anxiety. “You 
aren’t saying a word. But perhaps you aren’t 
very well after the storm. . . . We shall be 
home soon. Isn’t it weather? What an aw- 
ful night! Fortunately the rain is stopping. 
Oh! and the lightning is over, too! What a 
pity! It was nice on the water, wasn’t it? 
Do you remember that peal of thunder? ” 

Here Claudia’s voice took a deeper note. 

“ I was so terrified! I quite lost my head! 
I felt as though I must cling to the boat with 
both hands! I really thought I was drown- 
ing! ” 

And Danville could not help looking at her 
searchingly with great, wide-open eyes that 
had a look almost of horror in their depths. 
Claudia was apparently unconscious of that 
scrutiny; she leant more heavily still against 


162 the fruit of folly 

her husband. How very tired she was I And 
she stretched out her left hand, which was un- 
gloved, and with a little loving gesture, 
straightened his tie. 

When they reached home, she turned to 
Louis and asked : — 

“ Would you like anything to eat, dear? ” 

He answered that he was not hungry. 

“Neither am I. Are you, Louise?” 

The young girl confessed to a tremendous 
appetite. But she did not eat much, sitting 
down to table all alone. Danville had gone to 
his study to look over the letters which had 
arrived during his absence. Claudia, having 
removed her hat, and discarded her walking 
shoes for a pair of dainty slippers, was look- 
ing out of one of the dining-room windows, 
watching the last faint lightning flashes. 

Mother and daughter after listening to the 
roaring of the wind for some time, and saying 
little, went to bed. 

Danville still sat at his desk. He had opened 
three or four letters, but had not grasped their 
contents. Since that terrific peal of thunder, 
after which, by a flash of lightning, he had 


THREATENING CLOUDS 163 

seen Crawford and Claudia clasp each other’s 
hands, his whole body had been trembling 
with an unnameable dread, an awful fear. 
And laying his head in his hands, he moaned 
aloud, a moan of mingled rage and pain. 

“Oh! they love each other! My God! 
They love each other ! ” 

He got up from his chair, and feeling that 
he must move or go mad, paced rapidly up 
and down the room. He opened one of the 
windows ; he held up his face to the cool night 
breeze, with a sigh of relief, as if he hoped 
that the breath of the storm would drive away 
the morbid thoughts crowding in upon his 
brain. 

“Why, oh! why, did they take each other’s 
hands?” 

That picture was ever before his eyes. He 
still saw that revealing flash which had shown 
him his wife and his friend drawing close to- 
gether with an impulsive, simultaneous move- 
ment of fear. 

“ Does a woman take a man’s hand under 
such circumstances? ” he asked himself, “ un- 
less she loves him? ” 


164 the fruit of folly 

“Oh! the miserable creatures!” he mur- 
mured. “ If I thought . . 

He left the window and turned round. 

“ Oh! ” he muttered, below his breath, and 
stood trembling in every limb. 

“ Was that you? ” he asked. 

But there was no reply. He had been mis- 
taken. He was still alone. It was evidently 
not Claudia, as he had thought. Besides, had 
he not heard her go to bed? He looked be- 
hind the door, and convinced himself that no 
one was there. 

“ Oh! no, it is madness to contemplate such 
a thing,” he told himself. “ I should die of 
shame if I thought she could divine my sus- 
picions. Claudia deceive me? My little 
Claudia? Absurd!” 

And yet . . . the memory of that scene on 
the yacht! 

The thought maddened him, and pressing 
his hand to his burning forehead, he stole into 
their room, with his brain once more awhirl 
with hideous doubts. He walked over to a 
couch where Claudia’s clothes were lying, and 


THREATENING CLOUDS 165 

stood motionless, gazing distractedly at the 
dainty skirts, longing to touch them, and 
clenching his hands in an effort to refrain 
from searching the pockets. 

Suddenly he heard a faint rustle of sheets 
behind him. Turning his head slowly, half 
fearfully, he looked at the bed. The rhythmic 
breathing of the sleeper fell upon his tortured 
ear. He hesitated no longer ; staggering like 
a drunken man, he passed into the adjoining 
room. The first thing that met his eyes was 
a lady’s elegant writing desk, inlaid with 
ivory. Claudia loved to write there. He 
stared at it as in a dream ; then, almost roughly, 
with a scared glance towards that other room 
where she lay sleeping he opened one of the 
drawers. It contained notepaper, stamps, 
sealing-wax, and letters. He fingered all 
these last, his eyes burning, as if he were afraid 
to look at them. A clock, striking the hour, 
made him start up trembling like a guilty 
thing. 

“ There is nothing under lock and key,” 
he thought. “ Evidently ... it ... is not 


1 66 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

here.” He was crossing over to a work-table 
strewn with skeins of silk, when he shuddered 
again . . . “ Had not the door moved? . . . 
that door . . . behind him?” He remained 
motionless, gazing mechanically at a plush 
frame, wherein smiled the pictured face of 
little Duncan. “No! after all, nothing had 
stirred . . . certainly no one had moved 

yy 

He breathed again. 

“Ah!” ... he murmured with a sigh of 
recollection, “ the bureau ! ” 

Quickly he returned to her room and found 
the bureau. All Claudia’s little treasures 
must be there. 

He opened the drawers one by one. He 
found all his old letters, those dear letters, 
loving, tender, confiding — written to his wife 
in the days when she had never known of 
Crawford’s existence. He sat down and 
looked at the faded writing — his own — and 
side by side with it that of another — that 
penned by the beloved hand of Claudia. For 
Claudia had loved him well in those days, so 
well that she had arranged all these letters in 


THREATENING CLOUDS 167 

a most sweet and charming fashion. Lover- 
wise, she had laid one of Louis’ ‘letters against 
one of her own; each packet was made up in 
this way, and those good, faithful letters, ly- 
ing cheek to cheek, seemed to resemble old 
people who love to talk together, in low, 
hushed voices, of their vanished past. 

Suddenly, amongst the little heaps, he 
caught sight of an unfamiliar object — some- 
thing — yes, surely it was something gray — 
a piece of gray paper, evidently torn off a 
wall. 

“ Oh! ” he murmured under his breath, “ I 
don’t recognize this ! ” 

He took up the fragment of paper, exam- 
ined it carefully, turning it this way and that, 
with an air of amazement. What was that 
in the bottom corner? Was it not a date — 
traced with a very fine point, a needle, surely? 

“October!” . . . He thought he could 
discern the word “ October.” He trembled 
from head to foot, and felt as though his head 
was bursting. He was utterly at a loss to ex- 
plain the origin of this unfamiliar object. It 
awoke no responsive chord in his memory. 


1 68 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

He had never seen a room papered like that. 

“ Oh! this is too much! ” he moaned. 

He rose abruptly, and strode towards the 
door. 

“ I must ask her,” he murmured, with a 
frenzied air, “ I must! ” 

He passed into the neighboring room, and 
behind the portiere stood a white form, appar- 
ently hiding. 

Startled, he cried aloud : — 

“ Is that you?” 

And Claudia gave a little answering cry of 
surprise. 

“ What are you doing there? ” he asked. 

“ Nothing,” she replied. “ I only wanted 
. . . wanted to see if you were coming to 
bed.” 

They exchanged a hostile glance. Dan- 
ville felt as though his lips were sealed, as 
though he simply could not speak of the mys- 
terious gray paper. Besides, what was the 
use of voicing his secret fears? What would 
be gained by such a course? What needless 
misery would be caused if his suspicions were 


THREATENING CLOUDS 169 

groundless, and what a vulgar, ridiculous 
scene there would be if they were true I He 
remained silent ; he dared not even look at her, 
lest he should read the truth in her eyes. He 
went back with her to their room, talking of 
trivial matters, his heart aching with the awful 
bitterness of doubt. 

Claudia followed him. Her voice was 
soft; it did not sound as if she had been asleep. 
Perhaps she had only been pretending when 
he bent over her bed . . . Danville felt an 
icy chill steal through his veins. 

“ Had she seen me? ” he asked himself, 
“when I was tempted to search her skirts? 
Did she see me when I was looking through 
her desk? ” 

He closed his eyes, and became more deeply 
lost in thought. He remembered that several 
times he had fancied he heard a slight noise 
at the door. A shudder ran through his 
frame, and his lips grew pale and dry with the 
torture of his doubts. 

“ How the wind blows,” Claudia mur- 
mured. “ It must have awakened me. Is it 
very late? What were you doing there at this 


170 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

time of night? Why have you opened the 
bureau? ” 

He felt as though his veins were bursting 
through his forehead; there lay the gray pa- 
per, plainly visible on a packet of letters. 
What if she were to see it? His eyes grew 
troubled ; he wished with all his heart that he 
had hidden the accursed fragment of paper. 
But Claudia’s slim fingers had already closed 
upon it, and, looking up at her husband with 
a soft, melting light in her liquid eyes, she 
whispered : — 

“ Do you remember? ” 

Her voice had never sounded more melodi- 
ous, and her shoulders, which Danville could 
perceive beneath the muslin of her night- 
dress, seemed modeled with a new, smooth 
freshness. She held up the scrap of gray pa- 
per, torn from the wall of a furnished apart- 
ment in Sixty-sixth Street, eight months be- 
fore, and on the same delicate hand there 
gleamed her marriage ring. 

“ Oh ! Louis,” she murmured softly, “ don’t 
you remember ... at Quebec? ” 

He heard her words, and even made an ef- 


THREATENING CLOUDS 171 

fort to believe her. But, at length, he replied 
huskily : — 

“At Quebec? . . . No, I don’t remember.” 

Then she bent down and murmured in his 
ear: — 

“ That morning . . . when we were so 
happy in our love.” 

“Oh! did you tear the paper off the wall 
that morning? ” he asked, still incredulous. 

“ Yes, in memory of that dear room,” she 
answered. 

“But, pardon, Claudia! that room . . . 
that room was papered in a shade of terra- 
cotta.” 

“ I know,” Claudia replied calmly, “ but 
the inside of the wardrobe was papered in 
gray.” 

“ Was there a wardrobe? ” 

“ Yes ; papered entirely, as I say, with gray.” 

“ Oh ! ” he muttered, still with a dubious air. 

“ I thought you had a better memory,” she 
retorted, in a rather hurt voice, as she threw 
the paper back into the drawer. Then, soft- 
ening again, she went on: “Never mind! 
... I still think it was worth while.” 


172 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ Oh ! but . . . Claudia » . . Claudia dear- 
est, forgive me! I did not say — really, 
I seem to remember it myself now.” 

“ The wardrobe was papered like this,” she 
repeated, again taking up the paper. “ It was 
from there I took this little piece; you must 
realize that I couldn’t have disfigured the wall 
of the room! ” 

She examined the gray fragment closely, 
posing her body in such a way as to accentuate 
the full moulding of her firm bosom, half- 
concealed, half-revealed, by the flimsy robe de 

nuit. 

“ It was in October! Look! I have writ- 
ten the date underneath.” She seemed pen- 
sive for a moment, and then laid the paper to 
his lips. 

“ Come,” she whispered, “ kiss it, my hus- 
band ” 

He looked at her; then, with a strange sense 
of uneasiness, closed his eyes. 

“ Come! ” she said again, “ Louis. . . .” 

He felt the strip of paper quivering on his 
lips, and saw Claudia’s smile of thanks. 

The same terrible doubts once more assailed 


THREATENING CLOUDS 173 

him ; he closed his eyes, tortured by the same 
sad thoughts. 

“ Are you going to bed now? ” said Claudia 
archly. 

Slowly, and with difficulty, he smiled, as 
he watched his wife return the paper to the 
drawer. 

Claudia was undoubtedly ashamed of her 
heartlessness; her whole being had revolted 
against the odious comedy, even while she had 
been acting it. But the one dominating, com- 
pelling desire to reassure Danville silenced 
the voice of conscience, and the means to the 
end became but a secondary consideration. 
But now that it was over, how glad she was 
to forget it all in the belief that she had ban- 
ished his doubts! And how sweet it was to 
contemplate these old letters lying before her 
eyes, these souvenirs of her love. Little by 
little, a look of grave sadness stole across her 
face, and again and again she murmured, as 
she looked into her husband’s eyes : “ Do you 
remember this? ” The smile which accom- 
panied the tender words was frank, sincere, 


174 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

and pure, and yet it resembled that other smile, 
that false, studied, artificial smile with which 
she had induced her husband to kiss a sou- 
venir of her guilty love. Nature is merciful; 
for good and bad alike she has the same pro- 
tecting veil ; the false utterance carries just as 
much weight as the true. 

Suddenly Claudia came across a crumpled 
piece of paper which she snatched up with a 
rapid gesture. In her repentant mood she 
blushed — a circumstance which did not es- 
cape Danville’s notice. It was the artlessly- 
worded vow they had both signed fifteen or 
sixteen years before. 

“ Claudia and Louis have vowed, after hav- 
ing kissed this paper, to love each other for- 
ever and ever and ever!” It was the paper 
she had taken with her eight months before 
when she had gone to the Pennsylvania Sta- 
tion, securely armed as she had thought against 
all temptation. But how powerless a weapon 
the poor little souvenir had proved! She hid 
her head on her husband’s shoulder when she 
caught sight of the postscript, added in Octo- 
ber: — 


THREATENING CLOUDS 175 

“ This vow endures still, and will endure all 
the rest of my life. — Claudia.” 

Danville felt his wife’s cold lips pressed to 
his throat. 

He looked at her. She was on the verge of 
tears. 

“ What is the matter? ” he asked hesi- 
tatingly. 

“Nothing!” she replied, in a feeble voice. 

He longed to fall on his knees before her, 
crying: — 

“ Oh! tell me if that which I fear is true? 
Tell me! tell me!” 

But he dared not, could not speak; his emo- 
tion was stifling him. 

He followed Claudia to their daughter’s 
room. The wind no longer whistled round 
the house, and Louise lay sleeping peacefully, 
pale in her slumber, her fair hair spread over 
the pillow like a shower of gold. They gazed 
at her in silence. Claudia softly smoothed 
down the sheets and raised the young girl’s 
bare arm, which hung over the edge of the 
bed. 

“ Our daughter is very beautiful,” she whis- 


176 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

pered, as she lightly laid her lips to the low 
white brow in a maternal kiss. At the words 
Louis could restrain himself no longer, and 
with a long-drawn sigh of misery, he stam- 
mered : — 

“ Oh God ! oh God ! . . . how wretched I 
am!” 

Claudia’s heart leaped in her bosom ; but her 
lips remained sealed. Dreading the explana- 
tion she felt must surely ensue, she turned away 
as if she had not understood, and walked back 
to the study. 

At length she found courage to ask : — 

“ Did you speak to me? ” 

He closed the door and faced his wife with 
a look of misery in his pleading eyes. She 
turned away, but in a couple of strides he had 
traversed the distance which separated them. 

“Now!” he said, “now tell me why you 
caught hold of Crawford’s hand! ” 

A mist gathered before her eyes. She felt 
as though she must surely faint. Danville 
had seized her arm, and she felt his fingers 
closing round her soft flesh in an iron clasp. 

“ Answer me,” he repeated. 


THREATENING CLOUDS 177 

“Why? Because ... oh! because I was 
afraid: and in my fear I thought it was you 
beside me, Louis.” 

“ Is that true? ” he asked. 

“ I swear it! ” she said deliberately. 

“ Oh ! ” he cried brokenly, “ what a fool I 
am! What a suspicious brute! Forgive me, 
my little Claudia, forgive me! ” 

And, almost sobbing, he laid his lips to hers. 

“ She lied ! ” he told himself two hours later, 
when the pale dawn stole into their room. 
“She lied! He is her lover! ” He had spent 
the night in thought, and was convinced that 
he had discovered the unhappy truth. But 
he was still far from thinking that guilty re- 
lations had existed between his wife and his 
friend. Failing the evidence of his own eyes, 
he would always refuse to believe that. In- 
deed, the very thought had scarcely entered 
his head. All that he felt sure of was that 
Claudia and Crawford were drawn to each 
other by a sentiment which would speedily 
ripen into love. “ A man and woman do not 
clasp each other’s hands in a storm unless 


178 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

moved by a powerful mutual impulse,” he 
thought. “ They love each other. There 

has, perhaps, been no formal declaration, per- 
haps they themselves have not yet realized 
their position, but a sentiment assuredly ex- 
ists which I must crush, cost what it may.” 

Finally he decided to break with Crawford, 
though he could not quite make up his mind 
how to effect the rupture. 

“ And to-morrow,” he murmured between 
his clenched teeth, “ it may be too late ! ” 
When morning dawned at last, he asked 
Claudia : — 

“ Where are we going to-day? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she replied. 

“ But didn’t we arrange to go out with Mr. 
and Mrs. Crawford? ” he persisted. 

“Oh! yes, of course, we are going to the 
Metropolitan Museum, aren’t we?” she an- 
swered. 

Louis did not go to the office that morning. 
He felt too restless and enervated, and when 
Claudia stood before the glass to put on her 

hat, he asked almost irritably : — 

“ What are you going to do now? ” 


THREATENING CLOUDS 179 

“ I’m just going out for a little while,” she 
said. 

“ Well, I think I’ll come with you.” He 
spoke almost timidly; he knew he was half 
mad with jealousy, and the knowledge added to 
his confusion. He felt almost ridiculous. 

They decided to go to the Park. First, 
however, Claudia expressed a desire to go over 
to Broadway. 

“ I shall be back almost immediately,” she 
said. “ You can wait here.” 

“ Oh ! I may as well go with you,” he ob- 
jected. “ It will only be a matter of a quarter 
of an hour or so, I suppose? ” 

Again he felt furious with himself. Why 
was he so absurd? He could not be always 
with his wife. 

Suddenly, however, Claudia changed her 
mind. 

“ Oh ! ” she said, “ I’ve just remembered 
that our friends in the Franconia won’t be at 
home. I think they have gone away into the 
country.” 

“We can soon find out,” remarked her hus- 
band. 


180 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


“ Oh! I’m quite sure we shall find nobody 
there,” she replied, for she no longer wanted to 
call. 

Once more troubled, Danville thought: 
“ Is there anything at the bottom of this? ” 

Then he felt as though he could have 
pinched himself for being such a churl. 

At lunch he ate nothing. His thoughts 
were all of Crawford, whom he intended to 
see again soon. Looking around the room he 
found traces of his rival everywhere. His 
portrait was on the mantelpiece, his composi- 
tions were scattered about the piano, one of 
his bouquets was in a vase. He had noticed 
none of these things the day before. 

“Where shall we find Crawford?” he 
asked, when they reached the Metropolitan. 

“At the head of the stairs, I expect,” she 
answered. 

They found Crawford without the slightest 
difficulty. Danville took off his hat to wipe 
his forehead, as it was damp and clammy. He 
tottered, feeling as though he were about to 
fall, and tried in vain to collect himself and 
to reply to Louise’s questions. 


THREATENING CLOUDS 181 


As he saw the composer coming towards 
them the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. 
He bowed distantly, and averted his eyes with 
disdain. Crawford was explaining and ex- 
cusing his wife’s absence. It appeared that 
Marguerite had been upset by the storm the 
day before; she was not feeling at all well, 
though she would probably be herself again 
in a few hours. 

They passed at random through the brilliant 
rooms, faintly redolent of paint, for the most 
part silent. They had paid five or six visits 
to the Metropolitan, but in that moment 
neither Louis nor Claudia could have said 
where they were, or where they were going, 
or what they were doing. Even Crawford, 
usually so glib of tongue, seemed as little in- 
clined to conversation as themselves. Once, 
as Danville stopped before a picture, he 
thought he caught a significant glance ex- 
changed between the composer and his wife. 
He turned pale, and stepped between them, 
whilst his hand closed convulsively over the 
handle of his walking-stick. Suddenly Craw- 
ford greeted a stranger, and exchanged a cor- 


182 the fruit of folly 


dial hand-clasp. “ This is my good friend 
Van Law, whose work you doubtless know,” 
he said, turning to Danville. The latter 
might have been deaf and dumb. He heard 
not a word. He vaguely realized that he was 
introduced to someone, and mechanically 
raised his hand to his hat. 

Crawford went on talking to his friend, 
without leaving Danville’s side. Every time 
the former stopped to examine a picture Louis 
involuntarily shrugged his shoulders, for, in 
all sincerity, he regarded as hideous every 
picture which won Crawford’s admiration. 
Presently, the latter touched his arm. 

“ There ! that’s the sort of thing that always 
appeals to one,” he declared in a tone of con- 
viction, as he pointed to a large picture which 
hung proudly on the line. Danville contem- 
plated it in silence. It was a colorless, feature- 
less canvas, portraying three or four rag-pick- 
ers’ baskets. 

“ What life! ” continued Crawford. 

“Where?” asked Danville, contemptu- 
ously. “In those baskets?” 


THREATENING CLOUDS 183 

Crawford’s friend trembled. He was a 
ruddy-faced, unintelligent-looking little man, 
whose pictures were the admiration of certain 
enthusiastic young journalists. It was he who 
had painted the baskets in question, calling 
the picture “ The Rag-Pickers of La Gren- 
elle.” 

Danville neither saw Louise’s blushes nor 
heard Claudia’s significant cough. 

“ The thing is simply idiotic! ” he declared, 
quite oblivious of the fact that the painter 
stood by his side. Crawford turned pale, and 
moved towards Danville. 

“Roger!” interposed the painter quickly, 
taking his friend’s arm, “ Roger! please take 
no notice.” 

“ Idiotic! ” Louis repeated contemptuously, 
“ absolutely idiotic.” 

“ You are very strange to-day,” murmured 
Crawford, quite abashed. 

“ Do you think so? ” asked Danville haugh- 
tily. 

Claudia hastily intervened. “ Louis! ” she 
said warningly. 


184 the fruit of folly 

“ I shall hope, Mr. Danville,” resumed 
Crawford, “ that all this is merely some un- 
happy misunderstanding.” 

“ It is nothing of the kind,” retorted Dan- 
ville. 

By this time Van Law, the painter of the 
unfortunate “ Rag-Pickers,” had gone scarlet. 
He had been listening the whole time, gazing 
at his friend with a stupefied air. Crawford 
did not flinch. 

“ Let us go,” he said, turning to Danville 
with a smile. “ You are not well this after- 
noon.” 

Claudia’s husband shuddered ; he darted an 
evil look at the composer, and his hand trem- 
bled. 

Crawford turned pale now. He read the 
menace in Danville’s eyes, and realized that 
it was impossible to avoid a climax. 

“ Mr. Danville,” he said as calmly as he 
could, “ when one is in this sort of mood, one 
usually remains at home.” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir. Since when have 
you appointed yourself critic of my actions?” 
muttered Danville furiously. 


THREATENING CLOUDS 185 

“ I will not have words with you,” answered 
the composer, shrugging his shoulders with an 
air of defiance. And, taking Van Law’s arm, 
he bowed, and withdrew. 

“ At last! ” thought Danville, when, a quar- 
ter of an hour later, he hailed a cab and 
handed his wife and daughter in. “ It’s 
done,” he told himself, with a sigh of delight, 
“ it’s done, and we shall see no more of Craw- 
ford. We shall be as happy as we were be- 
fore we ever met him! ” He kissed Claudia 
fondly as these thoughts passed through his 
mind, and then turned to Louise, and kissed 
her, too, demanding their pardon the while. 
The tension was relieved; his nerves were 
calm, and in that blissful moment of reaction 
he could have wept for very joy. 

He was genuinely amazed when Louise ap- 
prised him of the real cause of the quarrel. 

“What!” he exclaimed, “that gentleman 
is the artist? the painter of the ‘ Rag-Pickers ’? 
What a shame! I must go and see him, and 
try to make him forget my abominable clum- 
siness. I must have been a blind idiot! ” 


1 86 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


He looked at his wife. She was trembling 
from head to foot, but she remained silent. 

“ Oh ! Claudia, aren’t you going to forgive 
me?” 

Still she did not answer. 

“Oh!” he said, taking both her hands in 
his, “ I trust you. Believe me! You may re- 
assure yourself on that score.” 

Mother and daughter trembled. They had 
not yet viewed the affair in its true light. 

“Oh! oh!” they burst out simultaneously. 
It was only natural that no thought of the 
precise situation had entered Louise’s head. 
Claudia, perhaps, was thinking of other 
things. 

Danville managed to convince them that 
there was no cause for alarm. And in any 
event, he, Danville, was the insulted party. 

After a moment’s reflection, he said : — - 

“ Will you drive with me to the office? ” 

Mother and daughter held a brief consul- 
tation together, and then agreed to the pro- 
posal. Accordingly the taxicab went flying 
downtown. 

“ It is not worth your while getting down,” 


THREATENING CLOUDS 187 

he said, when they reached their destination. 
“ I’ll be back in a moment.” 

But in spite of his promise, he kept them 
waiting nearly an hour. 

“ Here we are! ” he said at last, quite gayly, 
as he suddenly reappeared. “ Our European 
representative kept me rather a long time. 
We are doing very well over there, you know.” 
He took his seat in the car opposite them. 
“How hot you are!” said Claudia, “you 
look as though you have been running.” 

“ It is warm in there,” he said simply. 
“The air was stifling.” 

During the three-quarters of an hour which 
had elapsed, Danville had been pacing his pri- 
vate office in a fevered frenzy. 

He had determined upon a course of ac- 
tion. 

Danville went out at one o’clock on the 
following day. Claudia performed a hasty 
toilette. It was her day for meeting Roger. 
She was going to see him at the Sixty-sixth 
Street apartment, to see him, to speak to him, 
and to ask his pardon for Louis’ rudeness. 


1 88 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


She was ready at twenty minutes past one, 
her whole being aflame with impatience. She 
wondered if yesterday’s scene had cooled 
Crawford’s ardor, but told herself instantly 
that it could not possibly have made any dif- 
ference; he loved her too well. 

They no longer saw each other every day; 
but that mattered little, for the long-desired, 
long-anticipated kiss is the most enjoyable. 

“ How well we shall love each other to- 
day! ” she murmured. 

It was ten days since they had met in Sixty- 
sixth Street, and Claudia longed to see her 
lover. She hailed a closed carriage, and, fol- 
lowing her usual custom, drove as far as the 
corner of Broadway, where she got out, and 
walked the rest of the way. In the space of 
a few minutes she was standing inside the en- 
trance of the apartment house. 

“ Mr. Jackson has not come yet, Madam,” 
said the hall-boy, to whom Crawford was 
known as Mr. Jackson. 

“ He is sure to come to-day,” she told her- 
self. And she went upstairs and sat down to 
wait as patiently as she could. The minutes 


THREATENING CLOUDS 189 

passed, there was no sign of her lover. Half- 
an-hour, an hour; still no sign. She grew 
restless ; a fear she dared scarcely name stabbed 
at her heart and made her tremble from head 
to foot. 

It was his habit to rap at the door very 
gently, three times, when he was late. Per- 
haps to-day she had not heard him. She rose 
softly and stole to the door, opened it, and 
found — no one. No! he had not come. She 
sat down again, nearer the door, which she 
left ajar, gazing towards it with all her eyes, 
listening with all her ears. 

Still the minutes crept on. It was a quarter 
to three. He had never been as late as this, 
and her heart sank with a sickening forebod- 
ing. Could it be that he no longer loved her? 
Had that absurd quarrel put an end to every- 
thing? 

Suddenly she started up with a little cry. 
Someone had rung. She rushed to the door, 
her hopes revived. It might still be Roger. 

It was a telegraph boy handing her a flimsy 
envelope. She took it mechanically, unable 
to utter a word, as she read : — 


190 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ My Dear One, — I cannot come to-day 
6ince I have a sudden and pressing engage- 
ment. Could you not quiet Louis’ sus- 
picions? Good-by for the present. I will 
write to you. 

“ Roger.” 

For a moment Claudia gazed at the missive 
with a bewildered air, entirely at a loss to un- 
derstand. 

“ A sudden and pressing engagement ” . . . 

“ Heavens! ” she said aloud, for at last she 
understood something of the veiled purport of 
the message. “Oh! What will Louis do! ” 

She fell on to the edge of the couch; and 
for fully five minutes she sat there motionless, 
her eyes fixed upon the floor, her hands locked 
together in an agony of impotent despair. 

“He will kill him! Kill Roger!” The 
words dinned in her brain until she thought 
she was going mad. 

Suddenly she straightened herself, and got 
up. 

“No! no! no! ” she cried aloud, “ not that! 
not that!” 


THREATENING CLOUDS 191 

At the door she hailed a hansom, and paused 
a moment before she gave the order, wonder- 
ing where she ought to go first. 

Almost breathlessly she murmured to her- 
self, “ Perhaps my husband has returned? 
Driver I Number — West Seventy-eighth 
Street, quickly, please ; as quick as you can.” 

“ Louis ! . . . Roger 1 ” The two names 
kept breaking in upon her thoughts. 

“Louis! . . .” 

“Roger! . . .” 

She whispered them softly, whispered each 
with the same breathless terror and adoration. 
Her imagination ran riot. She saw a corpse 
lying white and cold upon the ground. But 
which of those two loved ones? . . . which? 
. . . Louis or Roger? It was equally horri- 
ble to contemplate either of them . . . still 
and cold . . . Oh ! why could she not die her- 
self? She would willingly have given her 
own life for either of them. 

“ My Louis ! ” she said to herself, as she 
thought of the generous husband, the faithful 
friend, the father of Louise. And “ My 
Roger!” she murmured, as she dwelt upon 


192 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

the image of the handsome gallant, the young 
artist, the manly, virile lover. 

The one she adored with all her heart ; the 
other with her whole being. 

“ Wait a moment! ” she said to the cabman. 
“ I may want you again.” 

She paid her fare, and passed up the wide 
staircase of her home. She learnt nothing 
new, however, for Danville was absent, and 
Crawford had not come. 

“ If your master should return,” she said to 
the valet, “ ask him not to go out until I come 
back.” And she hurried away. 

“Driver! To the Subway Station!” 

Once more she started in pursuit. Entering 
the subway, in a half hour she was at Louis’ 
office. 

Claudia caught sight of an employe. “ I 
believe my husband is here?” she said with 
a little catch in her voice. As she spoke, Dan- 
ville’s secretary had come forward, and replied 
respectfully: — 

“ No, Mrs. Danville. He has just gone 
out.” 

She uttered an exclamation of profound dis- 


THREATENING CLOUDS 193 

couragement, and, without waiting to hear 
more, hailed a taxicab. 

“Number — West Forty-fourth Street,” 
she said, and the chauffeur started. 

“ I shall go to Roger’s house,” she told her- 
self. “ What do I care about the conventions, 
or yesterday’s quarrel ! They must not meet. 
Nothing else matters save that; and I will not 
allow it.” 

“ I shall ask to see Marguerite,” she 
thought, “ and find out from her whether 
Roger is there or not. I shall say: ‘Your 
husband is going to quarrel with mine ; either 
may be injured; even killed!’ Marguerite 
will weep, and all will be well; for by her 
tears, mingled with my own, we must and shall 
prevent Louis and Roger fighting. We will 
even take our children, if necessary, and fol- 
low them.” 

These melodramatic phrases surged rapidly 
through her brain, as the car dashed along. 

Arrived at Crawford’s, however, the maid 
declared that no one was at home. They had 
all gone out — the whole family. 

Mrs. Danville gazed at the girl incredu- 


194 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

lously; then, growing desperate, she cried 
wildly: — 

“ Are you quite sure? ” 

“ Oh! of course, Madam! ” 

A sound reached her ears from the interior 
of Crawford’s apartment, which seemed to 
Claudia suspiciously like that of little Dun- 
can’s voice. But, wearily and hopelessly, pale 
with grief, she passed downstairs. “ Evi- 
dently,” she told herself, “ the girl has re- 
ceived her orders. Roger had foreseen ev- 
erything, and forbidden them to allow me to 
enter.” 

Her eyes filled at the thought. Slowly she 
reentered the cab. The chauffeur enquired 
where she wanted to go, and she replied with 
a vague, mechanical shake of the head. She 
did not know where to go now. It was rain- 
ing hard. And she clasped her hands to- 
gether with a stupefied air as she felt the large, 
warm drops fall rapidly, one after another, on 
to her gloves. 

Suddenly she trembled from head to foot, as 
a thought occurred to her: — 

“ Oh ! my husband must have taken precau- 


THREATENING CLOUDS 195 

tions, too, to prevent my seeing him! I re- 
member now! I am sure I saw his walking- 
stick in the stand outside the door. How silly 
I must have been! But I will go back and 
find out for myself whether he is there or not.” 

This time she was more prudent. Arrived 
at the establishment, she entered furtively by 
the side-door reserved for the use of the staff, 
and rapidly threaded her way through the 
dark and intricate passages. A group of clerks 
saw her, and made way for her to pass, but 
she made no enquiries of them. Her breathing 
was labored, her eyes shone, and her lips quiv- 
ered with anxiety. She recognized the door 
of her husband’s office ; sure enough, there was 
his walking-stick outside. 

“ Louis ! ” she cried, as she opened the door 
and rushed into the room. 

Her voice was scarcely audible for emotion, 
but she had found him, and, bursting into 
tears, she threw herself upon his breast. 

She could not speak, for her conflicting pas- 
sions were stifling her, and for some moments 
she could only cling to him silently, sobbing 
as though her heart would break. Then she 


1 96 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

looked into her husband’s eyes; she touched 
him; she took his hands in her own, and 
pressed them nervously to her bosom. 

“Louis! my Louis!” she murmured brok- 
enly. 

Danville rose, and drew her into a little 
room leading into the hall. 

“What is the matter? What on earth is 
the matter? ” he asked, pale with alarm. 

“ Oh ! you wicked, wicked man ! ” she cried. 
“ I don’t know how you dare ask me such a 
question! What is the matter, indeed! Do 
you think that I don’t know that you are going 
to accuse Crawford of some dreadful thing? 
Oh! How can you?” she cried, taking his 
face between her hands. 

He tried to protest, but she would not listen. 

“ Oh! it is no use! I know everything! I 
was here a little while ago, but your secretary 
told me you were out. It was not true. You 
had forbidden him to let me pass. You see 
it is quite useless to deny anything. But it is 
all over now, and you are not going to be 
foolish. I swear it, and you shall see that I 


THREATENING CLOUDS 197 

mean it. You are coming back home with 
me. Get your hat and stick at once. I won’t 
let you stay here. I won’t! ” 

She was very excited, shaking him as she 
spoke, and forcing him to get up. 

“ My dear, this is absurd! ” he expostulated, 
trying to defend himself. “ Come back again 
in an hour if you like. But for the present I 
must remain here. In an hour I shall be at 
your service. Come now, Claudia! in one 
hour—” , 

At this moment the secretary entered, be- 
traying his surprise at seeing Mrs. Danville in 
the room. 

Louis trembled at the sight of his secretary, 
while Claudia’s eyes were fixed alternately 
upon her husband and his employe. 

“ Mr. Danville,” stammered the man, “ they 
are — ” 

“ Very well, I’ll come at once,” said Dan- 
ville, dismissing him with a gesture. 

But the movements and the expression of 
the secretary made Claudia suspicious. 

“ What is the matter? ” she said in a reso- 


198 the fruit of folly 

lute voice, as she walked towards Louis. 

“Nothing,” was the answer. “Just wait 
here for me one moment.” 

“No; I shall come with you! ” was the ob- 
stinate reply. 

“ It is quite unnecessary. I shall be back 
immediately.” 

“ I shall come with you,” she repeated, and 
she followed him out of the room. 

“ Now, Claudia, I beg of you — ” he remon- 
strated, taking her arm. 

She slipped from her husband’s detaining 
arm, lifted the portiere, and ran back into the 
office. 

Conviction suddenly dawned on her as she 
recognized Louis’ lawyer standing with a 
stranger in the adjoining room. 

“Oh! gentlemen! gentlemen! This is too 
bad ! ” she cried. “ Go away ! I implore you. 
It is simply a question of a miserable little 
misunderstanding. I am sure of it! Be- 
sides, Louis is now convinced of it himself! 
You must see that under such conditions he 
will not need you. What would become of 
me and my daughter? Oh! gentlemen! I 


THREATENING CLOUDS 199 

implore you to go away I ” she begged, clasp- 
ing her hands and sobbing aloud. 

They attempted neither to lie to her nor 
to resist her pleading. They stared at Dan- 
ville standing stupefied and helpless beside his 
desk, and, knowing that he could find them at 
once at his attorney’s office should he desire, 
after all, to see the affair through, they with- 
drew, in order not to prolong so painful a 
scene. 

“ Saved!” cried Claudia, as she threw her 
arms around her husband’s neck. “Oh! 
Louis, I have saved you ! Louis ! my Louis ! ” 

She could have danced for joy as she smiled 
up at him through her tears. 

“ Oh ! thank you for obeying me,” she said, 
“ thank you so much ! ” She threw her arms 
around him; she kissed his hands; she would 
have gone down on her knees to him to express 
her gratitude. 

“ If you only knew how I have suffered! ” 
she cried. “ If you only knew! . . .” She 
sobbed aloud, as Danville took her gently into 
his arms. There was a grave but tender light 
in his eyes as he looked into her own. 


200 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


“ How good you are,” he murmured, “ how 
very good ! ” and then added simply, “ I am 
very happy.” 

Tears filled his own eyes. All the sus- 
picions of the previous day had vanished at 
sight of his wife’s grief. How could he doubt 
her now? His heart swelled with joy un- 
speakable, as he told himself : — 

“ She has always loved me. She has never 
loved anyone but me.” 

“ Claudia,” he said, “ you did a good thing, 
the right thing, in coming here to-day. I shall 
never forget this hour; it is the sweetest I have 
ever known. I, too, have suffered, Claudia, 
these last two days . . . my own, dear 
Claudia! ” 

She lowered her eyes, the better to enjoy 
her triumph, or the better to relish her delight 
. . . or . . . was it only to hide her eyes from 
her husband’s too ardent gaze? In this in- 
describable moment, when, standing heart to 
heart, each quivered in the other’s embrace, 
was she still voluntarily acting a part, still 
playing a role? She gasped for breath, feel- 
ing an impulsive longing to cry aloud the 


THREATENING CLOUDS 201 


whole truth, in a long pent-up outburst of 
loyalty. 

She took her husband’s hand and laid it 
against her cheek, while great tears fell slowly 
from her eyes. 

“ And to think that I suspected you! You, 
my own true Claudia!” he continued. “If 
you were kind, you would punish me with your 
own dear hand.” 

She turned her head away, tightly compress- 
ing her lips in order not to obey that almost 
unconquerable longing to speak, to tell him 
all. For in that moment she repented with 
all her heart and soul, and felt as though she 
must curse that sinister, tyrannical lover, 
whose memory still haunted her, and whose 
kiss, alas! seemed worth the sacrifice of duty. 

She hid her face in her hands. 

Suddenly she looked up again, and said al- 
most eagerly : — 

“ Would you like to travel this summer? 
We could start to-morrow, with Louise, and 
get right away from here.” 

“Why to-morrow?” he asked, his face 
clouding over again. 


202 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


“ I ... I don’t know! ” she answered, hes- 
itatingly. “ I feel as though I am afraid of 
New York, as though I must get away for a 
few months, as soon as possible.” 

He kissed her closed eyelids. 

“ Oh! ” she exclaimed joyfully, “ then it is 
settled? We can go? You are sure?” 

“Yes; but not to-morrow.” 

Her face fell. 

“ Oh! Louis, why not? ” 

“ Business reasons, dear. It is really quite 
impossible.” 

“ But you know very well they can manage 
without you for a few weeks at this time of the 
year,” she objected. 

“ But, Claudia dear; I must be here to-mor- 
row.” 

They exchanged a long look of distrust, and 
Louis was compelled to lower his eyes. 

“ It is because of Crawford,” cried Claudia. 
“ You have already arranged to meet him. 
I know you have! Don’t deny it! I shall 
never forgive you. Louis, tell me the truth! ” 

He raised his eyes again, and kissed her on 


THREATENING CLOUDS 203 

the forehead. Then, in a low voice, he 
said: — 

“ I will not deceive you, Claudia. At such 
a moment I am not capable of the least dis- 
simulation. You have guessed the truth; we 
are going to meet to talk over certain matters 
to-morrow.” 

Her face became livid. 

“ Darling, you mustn’t be alarmed. It is 
nothing. The meeting-place was fixed this 
morning. The two gentlemen you saw just 
now were my lawyer and his. That’s all.” 

Claudia stood motionless, staring at her 
husband and trembling from head to foot. 

“ But don’t upset yourself, that’s a good lit- 
tle wife,” he went on soothingly. “ You know 
what it means — merely a talk to clear the air. 
Besides, sweetheart, you must remember that 
I wished to avoid any publicity, anyhow. 
Crawford is an artist, and those people take 
such things differently. It is a good adver- 
tisement for them. We must come to an un- 
derstanding. The newspapers would be full of 
it. My employes would blush for me. 


204 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

Come, little woman, be my -good, reasonable 
Claudia. Give me a kiss ; that’s right! ” 

She could only look at him with terrified 
eyes. So they were going to meet, after all! 
Louis and Roger! She sank helplessly into 
a chair, laid her elbows on the table, and let 
her head fall heavily between her arms. 

Louis returned home at two o’clock on the 
following day. At the sight, his wife fainted, 
and for some little time remained unconscious. 
Even when she recovered, it was quite a min- 
ute or two before she could speak or move. 
Then she closed her eyes again, and silently 
kissed her husband. 

The meeting had taken place that morning. 
Claudia could not control the shudder which 
ran through her frame as she listened to his 
explanations. She was terribly over-wrought, 
and the previous night had feared she would 
lose her reason. At three o’clock in the morn- 
ing she had taken her husband into her arms 
and begged him to give up the conference. 
And now, when she saw him before her, she 


THREATENING CLOUDS 205 

could have cried aloud for joy. A profound 
happiness filled her heart. 

“ Do you know that we are reconciled? ” 
said Danville. 

Claudia started. A deep flush suffused her 
cheeks, and she could not control a shower of 
happy tears. Before her eyes there rose once 
more the image of the lover, superb and glori- 
ous, the magnanimous lover, who could for- 
give and forget. 

“ Oh! ” she said, trying to suppress the ea- 
gerness in her voice, “ how did it come 
about? ” 

“ We settled our difference in short order. 
I told him that the misunderstanding had 
lasted long enough.” 

“Then he does not bear malice?” said 
Claudia. 

“ Not at all,” replied Danville. “ He is a 
good fellow.” 


CHAPTER IX 

LOVED AND LOST 

Weep no more, lady, weep no more, 

Thy sorrow is in vaine; 

For violets pluckt, the sweetest showers 
Will ne’er make grow againe. 

Thomas Percy. 

Spring had returned. Ten months had 
passed away since the eventful quarrel that 
had brought in its train consequences unfore- 
seen by Claudia and her husband. To her 
they had been ten months of agony, for Craw- 
ford, cured of his grande passion by this nar- 
row escape, had speedily given Claudia to un- 
derstand that all was over between them. For 
ten long months she had been compelled to en- 
dure in silence, to maintain the attitude of a 
friend — or rather, of a mere acquaintance — 
whilst her whole being was crying out for the 
lover who was dearer to her than ever before, 

206 


LOVED AND LOST 


207 

now that she had “ loved and lost.” The 
warm breath of April was unfolding the ten- 
der green buds, the sun smiled down upon the 
fertile earth, and Claudia’s heart grew lighter 
with a dawning hope, for Crawford was com- 
ing much more frequently to the house. Per- 
haps that poor, dead love, she thought, would 
once more burst into flower at the call of 
spring. 

“ How good it would be to love now,” she 
told herself. 

One Sunday morning she did a thing she 
had not done for many months — she attended 
Mass. She made a solemn vow to attend Com- 
munion every month if she could only regain 
possession of her lover. Not for a moment did 
she regard this proceeding as sacrilegious ; she 
did not realize that she was beseeching Heaven 
to let her live in sin, for her love for Crawford 
no longer weighed upon her conscience. 

She began to believe that God was about to 
grant her request. Crawford was still paying 
them frequent visits; they saw him once or 
twice every week. He even submitted with- 
out any irritable looks or gestures if Claudia, 


208 the fruit of folly 


lightly almost timidly, drew closer to him, 
when Louis and Louise were preoccupied. 
True, his muscles involuntarily stiffened, but 
his face betrayed nothing of his secret repul- 
sion beneath its pleasant smile, and he let 
Claudia have her way. 

While the fine weather lasted, he proposed 
various united family excursions; and on the 
quiet country roadsides or in the green mead- 
ows Claudia often cast adoring looks at the 
man who had been her lover, and whom she 
still loved as passionately as in the long ago. 

She thanked God for answering her prayers, 
for everything seemed to promise a revival of 
her guilty love. She would cheerfully have 
sacrificed a year of her life to give Roger the 
slightest pleasure. 

Formerly, her mind being free, though her 
heart was enslaved, she had indulged in can- 
did expressions of opinion when Crawford 
talked to her about music. She did not al- 
ways agree with her lover on matters of art, 
and did not hesitate to tell him so, if only for 
the pleasure of teasing him by contradiction. 
But she no longer took the liberty of criticising 


LOVED AND LOST 


209 

his views, for fear of offending him, and spoil- 
ing all. She invariably echoed his own opin- 
ions, and moreover, with perfect sincerity, for 
her mind seemed no longer capable of inde- 
pendent thought. It was as if she saw with 
the same eyes, and reflected with the same 
brain, as her lover; she was a part of him. 
She had become his plaything; she was mute 
and submissive in his presence as an attentive 
dog. And in the same degree as she was timid 
and subdued with Crawford, she was haughty, 
unjust, even tyrannical with others. 

During these family excursions, for instance, 
an instinctive suspicion haunted her when- 
ever she saw Crawford walking at Louise’s 
side. She felt sick at heart whenever her 
daughter conversed at all freely with him. 
Though she would have been unable to ex- 
plain the nature of her anxiety, strange ideas 
floated at times through her tortured brain. 
Louise was nearly seventeen . . . and Craw- 
ford ... he was not over-scrupulous . . . 
Could it be . . .? 

But such suspicions, she told herself, were 
too absurd. It was only natural that Roger 


2io THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


should like Louise, as natural as that she 
should like little Duncan. It was quite within 
the order of things that a sincere lover should 
feel affection for the child of his loved one. 
Friendship for the daughter was but a proof 
of his love for the mother, and Claudia hugged 
this consoling thought to her bosom. 

Crawford became more expansive as his de- 
meanor grew more assiduous. Once more he 
confided to Claudia his hopes and fears. 
One evening he drew her aside and confessed 
that he was very worried about money, and 
that his financial situation was far from prom- 
ising. He proceeded to explain that he had 
built all his hopes on a comic opera, which 
had been refused, however, by every manager 
whom he had thought it would suit, and who 
was capable of doing it justice. As a conse- 
quence, Marguerite was selling her property 
at Stockbridge. 

Claudia was moved to pity. Her poor 
Roger! How she longed to help him! She 
asked him what he intended to do. 

He told her that he had made up his mind 
to give lessons in singing and the piano, but, 


LOVED AND LOST 211 

even then, of course, the pupils would have to 
be found. 

Claudia promised to procure him some, and 
on the following day she went to see him, ac- 
companied by Louise, whose musical educa- 
tion still left something to be desired. Craw- 
ford expressed his gratitude, and at once con- 
sented to become Louise’s teacher. He gave 
her a daily lesson — sometimes at his own 
apartment, sometimes at the Danvilles’. The 
young girl declared herself delighted, and 
Claudia enjoyed many a pleasant quarter of 
an hour listening to her daughter’s chatter 
about “ that kind Mr. Crawford.” 

The composer had not deceived Mrs. Dan- 
ville — he was no longer well-to-do. The 
Stockbridge property had been sold, but most 
of the proceeds had been swallowed up by 
hungry creditors. Marguerite had given up 
the apartment and moved to a smaller one, in 
order to reduce the rent, and now she saw the 
time approaching when it would be necessary 
to reduce it still more. It was impossible to 
cut down expenses in any other direction, and 
Duncan had just reached the age when it was 


2i2 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


necessary to send him to school. The music 
lessons did not add much to the family ex- 
chequer, for Louise was the only pupil worth 
considering. Crawford would have to look 
out for something else. 

He would have liked a position as orchestra- 
conductor in a theater, but could not hear of a 
vacancy. Once more he went to Claudia, and 
confided in her. 

She had influential relations, and sought 
their aid; but they could do nothing for him. 
As it happened, however, she had heard that 
a conductor was required in a Philadelphia 
theater, though she did not want to inform 
Crawford of the fact — Philadelphia was so 
far away! She dared not think what would 
become of her if Crawford left New York. 
But she committed the indiscretion of keeping 
Louis in touch with Crawford’s affairs, and 
the latter mentioned the Philadelphia vacancy 
to his friend. At first Crawford refused to 
contemplate the idea, but, being at the end of 
his tether, and utterly unable to continue his 
former style of living in New York, he eventu- 


LOVED AND LOST 213 

ally resigned himself to the necessity of apply- 
ing for the post. 

The Philadelphia theater would re-open in 
September. The manager was a friend of 
Claudia’s, and Crawford begged her to write 
him a letter of recommendation. At this re- 
quest, Mrs. Danville became as pale as death, 
and timidly refused. 

He could not understand it, and proceeded 
once more to explain to her his precarious sit- 
uation, telling her that he would be obliged 
to accept anything whilst waiting for a better 
opportunity to present itself. 

He was persistent in his endeavors to ob- 
tain this last favor from Mrs. Danville. 
“ Claudia, my dear Claudia 1 ” he pleaded, “ if 
you still love me a little . . .?” 

Claudia could not restrain her tears. 
“ Philadelphia is so far! ” she said brokenly, 
then blushed with confusion at this involun- 
tary betrayal of her emotion, burst into sobs, 
and turned away her head. Crawford looked 
at her in silence, and in his own eyes there was 
a suspicious moisture. 


214 THE fruit of folly 

“ Oh! Roger! Roger! ” she sighed. “ Then 
it is all over . . And, drawing nearer to 
him she revealed a tear-stained, haggard 
countenance. Sobs still shook her bosom as 
she raised her beautiful, tragic eyes to his. 
He kissed her hair, and was afraid he would 
begin to weep himself. Of course, he no 
longer loved her, but then, how could he help 
pitying her? 

The next day he started, alone, for Phila- 
delphia and returned two days later. Noth- 
ing had been definitely arranged, but the man- 
ager had been very encouraging, and had 
practically promised him the post. 

When she heard the news Claudia nearly 
fainted in her consternation. Sick with an- 
guish, feeling that Crawford was escaping her 
forever, she racked her weary brain to think 
of some means of keeping him in New York. 

One fine morning her whole being quivered 
with a new-born hope. She had remembered 
that some time previously Danville had en- 
tertained one of the directors of the Metro- 
politan Opera Company at luncheon. Per- 


LOVED AND LOST 


215 

haps this gentleman knew of some opportu- 
nity for an artist of Crawford’s qualifications. 
Roger was a finished violinist. Why not 
make some inquiry, at least? 

She sounded Danville, putting the situation 
to him frankly. Their friend Crawford was 
in need of money; here was a practical means, 
perhaps, within their reach, of coming to his 
assistance. It was an opportunity they ought 
not to neglect, especially in view of the fact 
that he was making such an accomplished mu- 
sician of Louise. 

Danville offered no objection to approach- 
ing the director. In fact he called to see the 
man the following day. And to Claudia’s joy 
another week brought about Roger’s engage- 
ment at an excellent salary, as a regular mem- 
ber of the Metropolitan staff of artists. 

The Philadelphia position was hastily de- 
clined. Roger would remain in New York 
to his own and Claudia’s delight. 

Their reasons for elation, alas ! were far from 
identical. But of the inner workings of her 
lover’s mind Claudia was ignorant. Her own 
passionate desire blinded her to all else. 


CHAPTER X 

YOUTH WILL BE SERVED 

Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 

And all save the spirit of man is divine. 

Lord Byron. 

Crawford remained in New York, and 
Claudia was radiant with hope. At least she 
would still be able to feast her eyes on that 
dear face ; and surely, oh ! surely, he would be 
grateful to her! At all events, she thought, 
he would not be able to avoid the reflection, 
“This woman is entirely devoted to me; she 
has indeed been good to me, and done me a 
real service.” And the logical conclusion 
would — must be — “ I ought to love her for 
it.” Oh ! the thrice-blessed day when he would 
again lay his lips to hers ! 

The young composer had not accepted the 
position without scruples. He was pleased to 
make numerous objections and judicious re- 
216 


YOUTH WILL BE SERVED 


217 

serves, in order to safeguard his dignity. But 
as Louise joined her entreaties to those of her 
parents, he eventually gave in with a good 
grace. He devoted himself whole-heartedly 
to the work of rehearsing every day at the 
Opera House, and fulfilled his duties with en- 
thusiasm. But he told himself privately that 
it was a task unworthy of his abilities, and 
promised himself that he would soon throw it 
over if anything better turned up. In the 
meantime, he would not give up hope in re- 
gard to the Philadelphia appointment; there 
would be time to write to the directors, a 
month after the re-opening of the theater. 

It was the beginning of June. New York 
houses were closing one by one. Danville had 
again taken the villa at Cedarhurst, which they 
had occupied the preceding summer, and as 
Mrs. Crawford no longer had her place at 
Stockbridge Claudia invited her to spend the 
season with them. 

“ Oh ! yes,” said Louise with an exclama- 
tion of pleasure. “You must come, Mr. 
Crawford. You will see how pretty our cot- 


218 the fruit of folly 

tage is. And there are strawberries! Be- 
sides, if you don’t, I shall forget all you have 
taught me unless I continue my lessons in the 
country.” 

She was speaking quickly, eagerly, looking 
frankly at her teacher out of her beautiful blue 
eyes, as pure and as blue as opening flowers. 
Her complexion was exquisite, and her golden 
hair was bright and dazzling as the sun itself. 
As she stood there blushing with a young girl’s 
mingled enthusiasm and modesty, Crawford 
accepted the invitation, and the two families 
found themselves once more united at Cedar- 
hurst during the first warm days of July. 
Claudia’s heart beat high with happiness. At 
last, she told herself, she was to gather the 
fruits of her patience and generosity, for she 
was going to pass long months in company 
with Roger. She would eat at the same table, 
sleep under the same roof, live the same peace- 
ful, divinely monotonous existence. 

Mrs. Danville could not sleep for joy. The 
Crawfords’ room was next to her own, and 
sometimes in the stillness of the night she could 


YOUTH WILL BE SERVED 219 

hear a calm breathing, which she felt sure must 
be Roger’s. 

The days became delightful. Danville was 
often absent, for his partners were in Europe, 
and he was indispensable at the office. One 
day, Crawford also being in New York, 
Claudia went with Marguerite to the room 
which had been allotted to the latter. Both 
ladies sat working. Mrs. Crawford’s maid 
was not always equal to the tasks of the little 
household, for Duncan was very troublesome 
and very mischievous, and needed constant su- 
pervision. Marguerite, therefore, was often 
obliged to come to the aid of the servant, and 
to-day she was examining her husband’s linen, 
repairing here, sewing a button there. 
Claudia dearly wanted to join her in the task, 
and had at last summoned up courage to ask 
permission to help. And there she sat, her 
unaccustomed, unskilled fingers painfully ex- 
ecuting darns in Crawford’s linen. 

But it was a pleasant task for her. She saw 
the bed where Roger had slept. She saw scat- 
tered about little articles which reminded her 
of her former lover. She touched the shirts 


220 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

he had worn, and tasted an intoxicating pleas- 
ure. 

Louise sat at the end of the garden, read- 
ing. Duncan was having a fine time astride a 
rocking-horse. 

Suddenly Claudia thought she heard a burst 
of laughter in the distance. No doubt it 
came from the garden. “ Who could it be? 
Louise? Yes; it was certainly Louise’s laugh. 
But what was she laughing for, all alone? ” 

However, Mrs. Danville thought no more 
of the matter, and continued her inspection of 
Crawford’s waistcoats, handkerchiefs, and 
neckties. 

Louise laughed again. 

Claudia leaned out of the window, but the 
paths and lawns were practically hidden by the 
foliage of the tall trees. 

“ My daughter must be reading something 
very interesting,” she remarked to Mrs. Craw- 
ford, as she resumed her seat. 

It was six o’clock. In the distance, on the 
clear surface of the ocean, a tug-boat whistled, 
dragging in its wake a long trail of lighters, 
looking like small black dots. 


YOUTH WILL BE SERVED 221 

Suddenly Claudia heard Louise speak. 

“ Then there is someone there,” she thought. 

Again she rose, looked through the win- 
dow, hesitated, and then, without saying where 
she was going, she quietly left the room and 
went down into the garden. 

“ Has Mr. Danville returned? ” she asked of 
the manservant. 

“ I have not seen anyone, Madam,” was the 
reply. 

She walked slowly along, took a pen-knife 
from her chatelaine, and cut half-a-dozen 
large roses, which she intended to put on the 
piano. Then she moved away towards a 
clump of cedars, behind which was a rustic 
seat, but Louise was not there. Claudia fol- 
lowed a winding pathway bordered by a high 
hedge, when suddenly she head Louise’s voice 
at her side. 

She turned. 

Louise was speaking to someone; someone 
whose words did not reach Claudia. The lat- 
ter was embarrassed; she held her breath, and 
endeavored to discover who the other person 
was, but in vain. Then she cautiously parted 


222 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

some of the branches in the hedge, which ob- 
structed the view, and saw her daughter fixing 
a rose into a gentleman’s buttonhole. It was 
Crawford. 

Claudia grew pale as death. 

“ Oh! ” 

The word was a low-drawn moan, which 
escaped her white, parted lips. Her eyes 
opened wide in amazement. 

Louise was very near to Crawford, and his 
ardent eyes were fixed upon the young girl’s 
face. 

Mrs. Danville saw her lover try to kiss her 
daughter’s hand. 


CHAPTER XI 

THE WAY OF A MAN 

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more! 

Men were deceivers ever; 

One foot in sea and one on shore, 

To one thing constant never. 

Thomas Percy. 

When Claudia Danville asked herself why 
Crawford had deserted her, she doubtless 
had forgotten that thirty-three summers had 
passed over her head. There might be other 
reasons for his coolness, but this was undoubt- 
edly the prime factor in his change of atti- 
tude. 

Claudia had loved him too long — with too 
great a passion, too devoted a loyalty. He had 
experienced an involuntary yearning to escape 
from her, and the eagerness of this longing in- 
creased in the same degree as did her own ex- 
cessive adoration. Time, unbending and in- 
exorable, had done the rest. 

223 


224 THE fruit of folly 

In short, Claudia, in the desire to appear 
more youthful, had revealed too many wrin- 
kles in an over-powdered face; and Louise 
had looked very pretty by her mother’s side 
— pretty, fresh, and attractive, with the vir- 
ginal bloom of her seventeen years. 

Crawford had thought of Louise with re- 
spect, if a somewhat ardent young man of 
Crawford’s type is capable of respectful 
thoughts in the presence of a young and de- 
sirable girl. At all events, passion had not 
immediately devoured him, and he had cher- 
ished certain scruples. 

To begin with, did Louise love him? 
Crawford made it a rule to keep his lips clean 
when the young eyes that looked into his were 
clear and innocent. He varied the nature of 
his “ declarations ” according to the nature to 
which he desired to appeal. These were his 
tactics, and, hitherto, they had always been 
crowned with success. 

Now Louise’s eyes spoke a language that 
was by no means easy to read. Young girls 
must be mistrusted. Curiosity is very much 
akin to love, and a sweet young girl may be 


THE WAY OF A MAN 


225 

conscious only of the former sentiment when 
the pursuing lover imagines her consumed by 
the fatal flame. The most blase roue or ac- 
complished flirt is often deceived in this re- 
spect. 

Therefore Crawford felt it necessary to 
make a careful study of the eyes of Miss Dan- 
ville, which study he pursued so assiduously 
that on most nights he saw them even in his 
dreams. There comes a spring-time when the 
young girl blossoms forth into womanhood as 
rapidly as the lily bursts into bloom. Beneath 
the benign influence of three months of sun, an- 
gular outlines may be rounded into delicious 
curves. Louise had undergone this pleasing 
transformation. Was he to blame, thought 
Crawford, if he had become aware of the 
fact? 

At first the greatest reserve characterized 
his conversation with Louise. Nothing could 
have been more in accord with the conven- 
tions — or his own well-appreciated interests. 
But he took a singular pleasure in seeing the 
young girl, in hearing her speak, in being near 
her. 


226 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


Crawford acted on a principle which is 
often well-founded ; if he thought so much of 
her, she must inevitably come to think a little 
of him. 

Thus it was that he had only been too happy 
to pay frequent visits to the Danvilles, and had 
welcomed with secret joy the prospect of be- 
coming Louise’s teacher. In regard to the 
latter, his plans were not as yet fully matured. 
He realized all the delicate subtleties of the 
situation, and the manifold dangers surround- 
ing this mad love. He even made earnest ef- 
forts to escape from this new thraldom, and 
at this juncture he would have exiled himself 
in Philadelphia without any over-poignant re- 
grets. 

But things had changed since then. The 
spring had come, and when for the first time 
Louise appeared in a light Empire gown, 
which displayed the nape of her neck, and per- 
mitted him a glimpse of a triangle of snowy 
whiteness beneath her chin, he became con- 
scious, with mingled rapture and dismay, that 
he was madly in love. 

It was solely in the hope of seeing her more 


THE WAY OF A MAN 227 

often that he had accepted the position in the 
Metropolitan Opera Company, and for the 
still sweeter prospect of being near her every 
day that he had accepted the hospitality ex- 
tended to him at Cedarhurst. 

The first days of his stay in the country had 
seemed the sweetest in his whole life. Louise 
liked to be with him ; he had no doubt on that 
score. But what he was unable to discover 
was whether the girl thought of him in the 
light of a tender suitor or merely as an agree- 
able companion. His opinions varied on this 
subject. At one time, on seeing Louise blush, 
he would fancy that the heightened color be- 
trayed the existence of a lover’s emotion; at 
another, her joyous laugh was quite enough 
to prove to him that it was but the gayety of an 
innocent child. These disappointments, how- 
ever, only increased his ardor. 

He cherished no naive illusions in regard to 
young girls. He knew that the most carefully 
nurtured maidens were often the most expert 
in the art of love. 

However, he believed Louise to be as pure 
of imagination as she was heart-whole, and 


228 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


this conviction stimulated him strangely. He 
loved her almost with piety. Probably before 
no other, so much as before that girl, had he 
desired to go down on his knees. His passion 
was so violent that it took a purely chaste form. 
Louise was so beautiful. Her youth was like 
the perfume of a flower-filled cottage. 

Now, on this afternoon in July, when Mar- 
guerite and Claudia were working together at 
the villa, Crawford had left New York at five 
o’clock to hasten back to Cedarhurst. Noise- 
lessly, knowing that the young girl was read- 
ing at the end of the garden, he had sought her 
out before going into the house to remove his 
hat. 

And whilst Claudia watched him, pale with 
anguish, Crawford sat talking by Louise’s side. 

“ Oh! ” cried the young girl suddenly, “ how 
strangely you are looking at me! I feel as 
though you are touching me with your eyes! ” 

Crawford’s eyes were, indeed, fixed upon 
her, with a hungry gleam in their depths. 
Louise’s involuntary exclamation expressed 
without exaggeration the startling intensity of 
that amorous gaze. 


THE WAY OF A MAN 


229 

The young girl rose instinctively, walked 
away to the boundary wall, and leant her el- 
bows upon it. Without a word Crawford fol- 
lowed suit ; the carefully-guarded attitude was 
abandoned, and he took no pains to conceal 
the fact. 

Suddenly Louise turned aside, exclaiming: 
“ Who is there? ” 

There was no reply, and no one came in 
sight. 

“ Did you not hear footsteps, Mr. Craw- 
ford? ” 

He had heard nothing; he had not even 
turned round when Louise had exclaimed. 
What did he care? If either his wife or Mrs. 
Danville had appeared at that moment, he 
would have ignored them. He was consumed 
with love. All vows, all old loves, were for- 
gotten. 

Crawford and Louise re-approached each 
other, their elbows touching, each looking into 
the other’s face. 

Then, suddenly, after looking for three sec- 
onds into Crawford’s eyes, so full of mean- 
ing, the young girl drew back slowly, without 


2 3 o THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

a word ; in her own eyes there dawned an ex- 
pression of fear, and she moved away quickly 
towards the house, without once daring to look 
behind her. Crawford remained Where he 
was, trembling from head to foot in the vio- 
lence of his excitement. This pretty girl 
should and must be his. How? when? 
where? It was upon the solution to that 
problem he was now concentrating all his in- 
telligence. He did not disguise the situation 
from himself. Louise never went out alone; 
Mrs. Danville watched over her always — 
Mrs. Danville who he knew still loved 
him. 

“ Before everything else, I must throw dust 
in the mother’s eyes,” he told himself. It 
would doubtless prove a difficult undertaking. 
Claudia seemed already to have her suspi- 
cions. She did not like Louise to take a les- 
son at his flat, for instance, and instructed a 
severely prudent maid to accompany her 
daughter on these occasions. Moreover, 
when the professor entered into conversation 
with his pupil, the mother invariably had the 
appearance of spying upon them. 


THE WAY OF A MAN 


231 

“ She will never care to leave her alone with 
me,” he concluded. 

He walked on a little. Not a minute had 
elapsed since Louise had vanished. He still 
fancied he heard her light footsteps speeding 
along the gravel paths. Still trembling, he, 
too, moved towards the house. 

“ How am I to manage it? ” he murmured 
below his breath, with burning eyes. 

Suddenly he stopped. 

Claudia stood before him, with a bunch of 
roses in her hand — Claudia, pale, immobile, 
leaning against a tree. 

He paled in his turn, and instinctively re- 
coiled. 

Then, recovering his sang froid, conscious 
of a definite plan forming in his mind, he 
walked towards his former love, took her in 
his arms, and kissed her. 

Claudia thought it was a dream. She could 
not speak. She could only stare at her lover 
with troubled, uncomprehending eyes, while a 
cold shiver swept through her frame. What 
did that kiss mean? Had her own eyes de- 
ceived her, a little while ago, behind the 


232 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

hedge? Was she going mad? Had she hal- 
lucinations? 

“ Then my little Claudia loves me no 
longer? ” 

Claudia still looked at him, her eyes full of 
a nameless fear. She stopped to lean against 
the hedge, and from between her parted lips 
her breath came with a sharp, hissing sound, 
as if all the pent-up anguish of that year of 
suffering was mingled with the tumultuous 
rise and fall of her aching breast. 

“ Can you pardon me, my little Claudia?” 
Crawford continued. “Would you care for 
us to resume that same dear life as of old? ” 

From Mrs. Danville’s eyes fell two great, 
glittering tears. 

“ You love me still! ” she moaned. “ Oh! 
you are good to me.” 

He was silent, as he watched the features, 
contracted with pain, of her whom he had once 
loved so well. And though his heart was full 
of the new love, he was moved. 

Claudia had drawn closer to him, and, still 
incapable of speech, her wide-open eyes gazed 
into his face with a stupefied air. 


THE WAY OF A MAN 


233 

He drew her away — they would be seen. 
He led her gently along the boxwood-bor- 
dered paths, out of the garden, and with slow 
steps they walked on, into the woods beyond. 
Crawford involuntarily bent his head. Per- 
haps, in spite of his habitual skepticism, he 
was not feeling too proud of himself in that 
moment. 

The sun was sinking behind the murmuring 
trees, and shed light rays upon them which 
seemed like soft, warm kisses on their eyes. 

After a little while, still gazing at her lover, 
Claudia murmured one word : — 

“Roger!” 

She pressed his wrists nervously with her 
trembling hands. 

Then, somewhat confused, he suggested : — 

“ Would you like to meet me the day after 
to-morrow, at two o’clock, at the Waldorf?” 

She gave him a long, troubled smile. Trans- 
figured, she murmured once more, “ Roger! ” 

She clasped her hands, and uttered a low 
moan of happiness. Then, sinking down on 
the trunk of a fallen tree, she laid her head in 
her hands, and wept unrestrainedly. They re- 


234 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

mained there for some moments. She took 
one of Crawford’s hands, and kept it gently 
clasped within her own, clinging to it des- 
perately when he made a movement to with- 
draw it. 

Knowing that he was pardoned, convinced 
that she was once again completely at his 
mercy, and could refuse him nothing, he re- 
covered his self-possession, and began to 
speak. 

He began by talking commonplaces; then, 
strong in his own omnipotent influence over 
the submissive mind of his old lover, he passed 
heedlessly, without skill or discretion, to the 
subject that was obsessing his own brain. 

“ By the way,” he said, “ the piano at the 
villa is a very poor one; I shall ask your per- 
mission to take Louise to-morrow to my flat 
in New York, to give her the usual lesson.” 

Mrs. Danville raised her head, and re- 
garded him steadily. 

“Oh! there will be no need to go to New 
York every day,” he continued, tearing at the 
green moss growing in the fallen tree-trunk, 
“ two or three times a week will suffice. It 


THE WAY OF A MAN 235 

is really impossible to do anything with so 
worn-out a piano. As far as to-morrow is con- 
cerned, it will be a simple matter. Louise 
could leave here with her father at one o’clock. 
Mr. Danville could bring her to my flat at 
three, and while he went on to the office, I 
could give my lesson. If necessary, your 
maid, whom you have left in New York, 
would be able to fetch Louise an hour later.” 

Claudia’s eyes were still fixed steadily on 
Crawford’s face. She had gradually loosened 
her hold upon his hand, and suddenly, throw- 
ing her arm over her eyes, she allowed a cry 
of disgust to escape her. 

She longed to spit in his face, and cry 
aloud: — “Monster! Go away! May I 
never see you again! Never!” But she 
could not speak. Something in her throat 
was choking her. She thought she was dying. 
She remained there motionless on the fallen 
trunk, staring straight before her, like a thing 
of stone. 


CHAPTER XII 

LOVE UNQUENCHED 

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods 
drown it. 

The Song of Solomon . 

When she returned to the house, Mrs. Dan- 
ville kissed her daughter tenderly. 

“ Come, Louise,” she said softly, “ I want 
to speak to you.” 

She shut herself up in her room with Louise, 
and covered her face with silent kisses. Louise 
could not understand it. 

“ Why, mamma, what is the matter? ” she 
asked. “ You make me feel quite shy.” 

Claudia did not reply. She felt an over- 
whelming longing to fold her daughter to her 
heart. 

“ The matter is,” she said at last, “ that I 
love you dearly to-night, that I am happy to 
look at you, to hear you, and to kiss you. That 
is all.” 


236 


LOVE UNQUENCHED 237 

Her mother watched her furtively. She 
seemed to see for the first time the perfect lines 
of her shoulders, the full curves of her young 
bosom. 

She sat musing. Yes, it was true that 
Louise was now seventeen, and, after all, her 
question ought not to have so astonished her. 
The child was growing into a woman. 
Claudia experienced a painful thrill at the 
realization of that all-important fact. 

She did not close her eyes that night, 
and the next morning she breakfasted in 
bed. Mrs. Crawford came to see her, and 
Claudia only replied to her sympathetic en- 
quiries in monosyllables. She was torn by 
conflicting longing to show her the door and 
to press her, with sisterly pity, to her heart. 

She asked incessantly for Louise. She 
wanted to know where she was, whom she was 
with, and what she was doing. She had her 
bedroom changed in order to sleep near her 
daughter. She concerned herself about the 
young girl more and more with every day that 
passed. 

A week passed in this fashion. Then, one 


238 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

afternoon, she went downstairs, and strolled 
out into the garden. She knew that Crawford 
was away. She looked ill, and her smile was 
painful to see. She felt a curious, oppressive 
sensation, and could not eat. It was as 
though she had received a deep internal 
wound, an incurable wound, which, all her 
life long, would cause her relentless, unabating 
anguish. 

Oh I the fervor with which she vowed to 
devote herself to her husband ! She longed to 
take immediate interest in financial affairs. 
Yes, she told herself, she had decidedly neg- 
lected the practical side of her existence too 
long. This would provide her with a splen- 
did source of distraction. She even asked for 
one of Louis’ financial journals, she wanted to 
examine the quotations, she accompanied 
Louis to the office, she had the organization of 
the company explained to her, she amused her- 
self with figures and studied the Stock Ex- 
change. 

And then she awoke to find it all in vain. 
All her efforts were powerless to keep her 
mind off the forbidden subject; all her vows 


LOVE UNQUENCHED 239 

proved but idle words. It was useless at- 
tempting to reason with herself. She could 
not get Crawford out of her thoughts; think 
of him she must. She realized with despair- 
ing conviction that she had no other interest 
in her life ; she was incapable of diverting her 
thoughts into another channel. The man 
whose love had been so dear to her was now 
even dearer than before, and seemed to have 
taken entire possession of her, body and soul. 
Mind and heart were his; over neither had 
she the least control. Claudia Danville no 
longer lived, save in Crawford. Life had no 
other attraction. 

Crawford was ignorant of the torture his 
former lover was enduring. He had not 
known he was being watched on the day he 
paid court to Louise. He was certainly far 
from imagining that Claudia had clearly seen 
through his despicable strategy, half-an-hour 
later, when he had suggested a rendezvous to 
the mother in order to effect another with the 
daughter. 

He continued to enjoy his peaceful holiday 
in the country at Cedarhurst, and seemed per- 


240 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

fectly at ease with himself and the whole 
world. 

Mrs. Danville fully expected to see him 
flush. She thought he would be covered with 
shame — the day she consented to speak to 
him — but he did nothing of the kind. The 
composer still carried his handsome head as 
high as ever, and it was Claudia who flushed 
in his presence. 

Crawford had eyes for no one now save 
Louise. He found her always beautiful, 
whether she was dressed in silk or cotton; 
whether her white throat was hidden or re- 
vealed. 

Claudia looked on despairingly. “ I can 
do nothing! ” she told herself in anguish. 
“My God! nothing! . . . nothing!” She 
felt as though she were going mad ; there was 
nothing left her but to grow old, and with 
heart and mind forever in torture slowly to 
wait until her hair was gray. 


CHAPTER XIII 

A WOMAN’S FRAILTY 

What mighty ills have not been done by woman! 

Who was ’t betrayed the Capitol? — A woman! 

Who lost Mark Antony the world? — A woman! 

Who was the cause of a long ten years’ war, 

And laid at last old Troy in ashes? — Woman! 

Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman! 

Thomas Otway. 

SUMMER was drawing to a close. September 
was approaching. The woods were strewn 
with a carpet of yellow leaves ; the trees were 
sighing in the wind. 

One morning Mrs. Danville entered her 
daughter’s bedroom. Louise was in the gar- 
den, Crawford was in New York. Claudia 
looked at the various objects scattered upon 
the table, opened the wardrobe, examined the 
little rack which did duty as a book-case, 
found some letters in a bureau, and read them 
through, with rapidly dilating nostrils. Pres- 
ently she uttered an exclamation of mingled 

241 


242 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

surprise and dismay; between the pages of a 
book she had found a faded rose. What was 
this? she asked herself. What did it mean? 
And as she continued to look at the withered 
flower, she trembled. 

There was a cruel little gleam in her eyes 
as she took the rose away with her into her 
own room. “ Ah ! ” she murmured, as she 
sank into the chair, “ What did I say? I 
knew it — I knew it!” She rose abruptly 
from her chair, feeling a need of movement. 
She left her bedroom and went down into the 
garden. She found a rustic seat, sat down, 
and tried to remain still, that she might think. 
She shivered a little, and then moved away to 
another seat. From there she could see 
Louise, who was reading a little distance 
away. She looked at her for a long time, until 
she could endure it no longer. With every 
nerve in her body on the rack she walked rap- 
idly back to the house and regained her room. 
Pacing up and down behind her closed door, 
her hands clasped wildly over her burning 
forehead, she saw visions that brought a light 
into her eyes which was not good to see. 


A WOMAN’S FRAILTY 


243 

Why should she guard her daughter so care- 
fully? Why feel such alarm for her safety? 
Was it not probable that she already loved 
Crawford? What significance was attached 
to that faded rose? Was it not a souvenir of 
love? Had not several months elapsed since 
Louise had grown so pretty, so desirable? 
Why, then, need she further torture herself? 
Had she not already seen Louise alone with 
Crawford? What had they found to say to 
each other then? Could they not have kissed 
each other then, if they had so desired? 
Crawford was not violent. He did not be- 
lieve in making love by force. Besides, Louise 
was of an age to reason for herself. What 
would have happened if she had been an 
orphan? and the most carefully-guarded girls 
often find the same opportunities. “ Oh ! yes,” 
she told herself passionately, as she thought of 
that strict surveillance of the past two weeks, 
“ I was good! I was very good ! Either she 
does or does not love him. If she loves him, I 
can do nothing. They are bound to meet some 
day or other, and any attempt I might make to 
crush their love would only make it revive. 


244 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

And if she does not love him, why should I not 
let her go to his apartment to-morrow at the 
time he proposed? ” 

“Oh! no!” she cried aloud, “I am going 
mad! Never that, my God! never that!” 
She sponged her burning forehead, and threw 
herself on the bed. 

An hour or two passed. She rose, went 
downstairs into the music-room, and seated 
herself at the piano, and softly, sadly, from 
her trembling fingers came the melody of the 
“ Song of the Roses ” — Crawford’s love token 
two years ago at Quebec. 

With a smile of pain, Claudia murmured 
softly — “ Quebec.” 

She was in a reverie. 

Suddenly she said aloud : — “ This piano is 
out of tune. That isn’t an ‘ F.’ It sounds like 
an old tin can. Why, of course, Roger is quite 
right. This is a horrible piano! ” 

She left the music-stool. Her brain was reel- 
ing. She felt as though she were dreaming 
with wide-open eyes. Yes, she must certainly 
be dreaming. In the center of her forehead 
there was an unbearable sensation of heat pro- 


A WOMAN’S FRAILTY 


245 

voked by the continual circulation of a fixed 
idea. 

She passed her hand across her forehead 
and looked with dazed eyes at the piano. Of 
course, Louise’s ear will be spoilt if she tries 
to sing to that tin can. It is ridiculous to at- 
tempt to give lessons with a piano like that. 
Louise must go to New York. 

Crawford had a splendid piano in his apart- 
ment in New York. And, as a matter of fact, 
Louise had to go to town the next day, in 
order to be fitted for her new gown. Ab- 
sorbed in these reflections, Claudia paced up 
and down the room. Sometimes she mur- 
mured disjointed phrases, and looked at the 
clock. “ It is annoying, but Louise must go 
alone to the dressmaker’s. The two maids are 
indispensable here, and, as for myself, I can- 
not go. Pooh! She can stop with her 
father.” 

She felt a slight giddiness. She sat down 
and shut her eyes. The chairs and tables 
seemed to be circling around her. She stood 
up, and looked towards the sea, bathed in 
golden light. 


246 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

She groped her way blindly towards the 
door. She stumbled against something, and 
it was almost with amazement that she discov- 
ered the keyboard of white and black keys at 
her side. “Oh! yes,” she murmured, trem- 
bling from head to foot, “ this piano is so worn 
out, and yet Roger would actually have al- 
lowed Louise to sing to-morrow to the ac- 
companiment of a thing like that. What 
could he be thinking about? ” 

Mrs. Danville went out into the garden 
again, walking with slow steps, seeming 
scarcely able to breathe. She was quite cold. 
She did not feel the ground beneath her feet. 
An invisible force seemed to push her along. 
She found Crawford sitting on one of the gar- 
den chairs; the sun had set, a clock chimed in 
the distance. Silently Claudia sat down by 
his side; the sky was veiled with the tender 
gray of twilight. “ I quite agree with you,” 
said Claudia, in a voice which she hardly rec- 
ognized as her own, “ our piano is absolutely 
useless.” 

She bent her head a little as she spoke; the 
words seemed to scorch her throat as they left 


A WOMAN’S FRAILTY 


247 

her bloodless lips. “ Louise has to go to 
New York to-morrow,” she continued softly, 
“ with her father.” Her eyes were burning. 
Claudia was afraid that she would weep tears 
of blood. 

A red glow hung over the world, like the 
glimmer of a distant fire. With dry, pale lips, 
in a voice that was scarcely more than a breath, 
Claudia murmured, “ I shall not be able to 
go with her. I shall not be going to New 
York until the day after to-morrow. I expect 
to be at the Waldorf.” Crawford turned his 
clear eyes towards her; Claudia’s own eyes met 
them and interpreted the gleam in them aright. 
She bent her head again, and, very softly, glad 
to feel the shelter of the friendly dark, she 
said: — 

“ If you think you ought to give Louise a 
lesson to-morrow at your apartment — ” 

Crawford did not flinch — he was looking 
at Claudia’s hand, which shook slightly in the 
shadow ; he dared not look into her face. The 
moon appeared, its red disk rising over the 
tree-tops. 

“Very well,” said Crawford, meaningly. 


248 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ To-morrow I shall see Louise in New York; 
and the day after to-morrow ... I shall see 
you.” 

A long-drawn sigh of distress escaped 
Claudia’s trembling lips. She drew her lov- 
er’s head down to the level of her mouth. 

“ Oh! God!” she breathed. 

And then in her eyes shone the light of un- 
dying despair. 


CHAPTER XIV 
DISCOVERY 

Better trust all and be deceived, 

And weep that trust and that deceiving, 

Than doubt one heart, that if believed 
Had blessed one’s life with true believing. 

Frances Anne Kemble. 

On the morrow Crawford started from Ce- 
darhurst at ten o’clock. He was lunching in 
New York with a party of journalists. He 
bade everyone good-by, and then turned to 
Danville and said, “ So it is arranged you will 
come to get Louise at four o’clock? ” And to 
Louise, “ Till later, then.” 

It had just struck one. Claudia stood im- 
mobile in her room, her hands clenched, her 
bosom heaving wildly, a prey to torturing re- 
flections. Suddenly she shivered. 

“ Miserable creatures ! ” she cried aloud. 

Yes, she could see them both, her lover and 

249 


250 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

her daughter! In spite of walls and stones 
and distance, she could see them. . . . She 
could hear them. . . . “Oh! no, no, no!” 
cried Claudia, “never!” But there was no 
remorse in that savage cry; it was the anguish 
of a jealous lover — the mother, jealous of 
the fresh youth of her child. She rushed into 
her dressing-room, hurried into a gown, put 
on her shoes and hat. In five minutes she was 
ready to go out. “ Never,” she said, her 
breath coming in gasps, “ the miserable crea- 
tures!” Her clenched hand trembled. In 
a paroxysm of suffering one word issued from 
between her chattering teeth, “ Never! ” 

She took a small revolver from her hus- 
band’s desk. “ Oh ! I shall kill him,” she mut- 
tered. “ I shall kill him! I no longer love 
him, I now only want revenge.” She thought 
of all that she had done for him : the services 
rendered, the kisses bestowed; she thought of 
all the torture, of all the shame of those two 
years. 

“ Yes, I shall kill him.” 

She thought above all of the future. 

No! in spite of tears and prayers — in spite 


DISCOVERY 


251 

of all her entreaties — in spite of all that he 
had owed to her — Crawford no longer loved 
her. He would never love her more. It was 
all over. 

She felt as though her heart turned over in 
her breast; she felt her love change to hatred. 
She began suddenly to heap execrations on her- 
self. Crawford! She wanted to spit in his 
face, since she no longer had the right to kiss 
it. Had she not already hated him for a long 
time without knowing it? 

Ah ! she was going to repay him now for all 
the insults, all the suffering, all the baseness. 
She was going to become independent, proud, 
virtuous. She was going to sever that unclean 
bond which had bound her to this man. 

“ Kill him I Let the world be my judge — 
they will know that I avenged my daughter, 
and will acquit me.” 

She reached the station at a quarter after 
two. A train was just due, and Claudia, un- 
hesitatingly, impelled by the intensity of her 
hate, hurried up the steps. As she took her 
seat she murmured, “ I shall arrive in time.” 


252 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

The train drew into the Pennsylvania Sta- 
tion at three o’clock. 

Outside the station Claudia hailed a taxi- 
cab and gave Crawford’s address. 

“At last!” 

As she rang the bell of Crawford’s apart- 
ment, one vision — a vision of shame — was 
before her eyes. Locked in each other’s arms, 
she saw them . . . those two. 

With the cry of an animal in pain, she 
pushed at the door, as Crawford himself 
opened it. “ My daughter,” she cried. 
“Monster! where is my daughter?” Her 
eyes sought vainly the familiar form. The 
hall was empty — she ran into the drawing- 
room . . . the dining-room . . . the bedroom 
. . . No one ... no sign. 

“Louise!” she called in anguish. 
“Louise!” 

Louise was not there. 

Mrs. Danville was too excited to hear Craw- 
ford’s explanation. Louise had gone out 
alone some minutes after having arrived. She 
was now at the Danvilles’ apartment. But 
Claudia did not understand. She did not see 


DISCOVERY 


253 

the amorous chagrin that filled the eyes of 
her former lover. She did not divine that 
Louise had never loved Crawford, and that 
instead of yielding to his prayers, she had at 
once fled trembling with alarm when her pro* 
fessor had attempted to kiss her. 

Drawing her revolver from her pocket, the 
mother rushed at Crawford. “ Monster,” she 
repeated, “Monster!” No other word left 
her lips, and it was accompanied by a hissing 
sound that distorted her lips frightfully. She 
tried to fire at Crawford, violently agitating 
herself into a mad, clamorous fury. Craw- 
ford kept back, seized her wrists, and with 
a turn of the hand snatched away the re- 
volver. 

Claudia’s rage increased. She contorted 
her body in one supreme effort, and seeing her- 
self disarmed, drew out a hatpin, and dashed 
at him again. 

“ Claudia 1 what is the matter? You are go- 
ing mad. Claudia!” he cried again as he 
warded off the blows, “ I swear to you that 
Louise is not here ! I swear to you that she is 
still innocent. Do you hear? ” 


254 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

But she was tearing at him now with her 
nails. 

“ Claudia 1 ” 

It was all he could do to defend himself. 

And then — perhaps to quiet her, perhaps 
to prove to her that he found her beautiful 
thus — he kissed her. 

Claudia sprang at him with added fury. 
She did not believe in the sincerity of that kiss. 
Her beautiful hair Rad fallen about her shoul- 
ders in the struggle. 

But Crawford, the blase, was not acting. 
He, indeed, found her desirable, this new 
Claudia, this woman who had always been so* 
humble, so timid, so devoted. Never before 
had her hair seemed so black; never before had 
the curves of her supple form appeared so per- 
fect. 

“ Fool! ” he murmured, as he snatched her 
up in his arms. “Little fool!” And his 
voice was low and caressing. 

“ Leave me alone,” Claudia shrieked, “ I 
hate you — do you hear me? I hate — ! ” 

But Crawford’s mouth sealed her own, as 


DISCOVERY 


255 

he carried her, struggling vainly in his power- 
ful arms, to the drawing-room. 

“ Little fool!—” 


Claudia felt as though the earth had opened, 
and she was sinking . . . sinking. . . . 


“ Thank you, porter! ” said a man’s voice in 
the hall. 

Crawford leapt to his feet. 

“ Probably they did not hear me ring,” con- 
tinued the voice, “ because of the music.” 

“ Danville! ” murmured Crawford, turning 
pale. 

Claudia felt a shudder of despair sweep 
through her body. 

“ Danville ! He has entered with the du- 
plicate key my wife left with the porter! ” 

Danville had rung, in fact. The lovers had 
heard nothing. Then, when the porter inti- 
mated that Mr. Crawford was at home, Dan- 
ville had entered. 

“ Oh! let us fly! ” cried Claudia. “ We are 
lost!” 


256 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY* 

There were two light knocks at the draw- 
ing-room door. And before Crawford could 
rush forward to barricade it with his body, 
Danville appeared. 

Crawford instinctively snatched up the re- 
volver he had wrested from Claudia and 
waited, with an ugly look on his face, his lips 
apart, showing his fine white teeth, like an 
animal at bay. 

Claudia screamed with terror, and buried 
her face in her hands. 

Danville shivered. 

It was so unexpected, so agonizing, that he 
seemed rooted to the threshold. His eyes di- 
lated painfully. Not a sound escaped his 
white lips. In vain he tried to raise his arms. 

Slowly, slowly, still going backwards, he 
staggered away. 

And Claudia thought she heard him fall in 
the vestibule. 

Meanwhile Louise was waiting for her 
father in Seventy-eighth Street. At half-past 
four she saw him arrive; he had the face of a 
corpse. 


DISCOVERY 


257 

“Well!” cried the young girl, “you are 
late, papa.” 

But Danville did not seem to hear. He 
went into his room without a word, and Louise 
remained alone in the little salon. 

When a quarter of an hour had elapsed she 
grew impatient. 

She went to her father’s room, and saw him, 
standing upright, behind his desk. 

Danville turned round to see who was there. 

His eyes were red and swollen. 

The young girl approached him almost tim- 
idly. 

“ Papa, what are you doing there? ” 

Then Danville took her hand, raised it to 
his quivering lips, and, in a low, broken voice, 
letting his tears fall unheeded, he mur- 
mured : — 

“ Oh ! my Louise ! My little Louise ! ” 

She stood looking at him in tender amaze- 
ment. 

“ You are miserable, papa. Won’t you tell 
me why? ” 

He had sunk into an arm-chair, and gently 
he drew her to him. 


258 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ My little Louise ! My dear little Lou- 
ise!” 

That was all he said, and he continued to 
weep, and to look at the young girl. It was a 
long, strange look, as if he were seeing her for 
the first time. 

“ My little Louise! ” 

“ Don’t you want to tell me why you are 
crying, papa? Oh! it is not kind. I will 
never tell you anything again, when I am un- 
happy.” She smiled as she spoke, and he 
kissed her. She tried to get him to speak. He 
still looked at her, and occasionally his chest 
heaved with a great sob. 

“ Papa, dear, it is five o’clock. Aren’t we 
going back to Cedarhurst? ” 

He shook his head. 

“ No?” 

“ No,” he said, and his voice was full of 
pain. “ We shall stay here.” 

“Good gracious! But why? What will 
mamma think? ” 

He made an indecisive gesture, as if to close 
the young girl’s lips. 

“ Can’t you leave me alone? ” he moaned. 


DISCOVERY 259 

“ Oh! no, no, papa! I must know! ” 

He folded her to his heart, and closed his 
eyes. 

“ Go to your room now, Louise. It is be- 
cause I love you, dear, that I cannot speak.” 


They slept in New York that night. 

On the next day, Wednesday, they did not 
go out at all. 

Danville made no attempt to seek revenge. 
It would have been a useless, if not a childish, 
proceeding. 

He had not attempted to kill Crawford 
when he had surprised him alone with Clau- 
dia. Perhaps in that moment he could not 
have avenged himself even if he had desired it, 
for his arms had been paralyzed. And, upon 
reflection, he could not have been so blood- 
thirsty. 

Nothing was effaced by murder. 

Danville knew that his wrong could never 
be righted; there was no balm for his suffer- 
ing. He knew that in twenty-five years — if it 
was given him to live so long — his heart 


260 the fruit of folly 


would still bleed from the wound it had re- 
ceived that day. 

Contempt played even a greater part than 
wisdom in his decision to leave Crawford un- 
molested. 

He had not been able' to realize the extent 
of his misery all at once. Long days must 
pass before he could grow accustomed to his 
trouble. It had been too cruel, too brutal a 
shock at first. 

But as the relentless hours passed by, and 
that eternal human reed of hope sprang up 
which gives birth to that philosophy of resig- 
nation, without which existence is impossible, 
Danville found himself unconsciously probing 
the wound and indulging in an introspec- 
tive analysis of his grief. 

Occasionally he would take Louise’s hands 
in his own, and pass them gently over his 
beard, which was growing gray. 

The girl was becoming alarmed. 

Why did they not return to Cedarhurst? 
And, oh ! why did not mamma come back home 
if she was still in New York? 

Danville knew not how to reply. He felt 


DISCOVERY 


261 

he had not the strength or the courage to dis- 
simulate; his tears had already betrayed his 
sufferings. 

He could only kiss her repeatedly, while he 
murmured helplessly: — 

“ My little Louise! My little Louise! ” 

And whenever the door bell rang, he caught 
his breath, as if he were afraid he might not 
hear the voice of the person who had entered. 

When Thursday came, and still brought no 
sign, Louise mingled her tears with his. 

Then her father spoke to her softly, entreat- 
ingly. “ Louise,” he said, “ I am going out 
for a little while. Promise me you will stay 
here. Promise me you will not even go out 
on the balcony. I shall be back soon.” 

Louise promised wonderingly, and he went 
out, experiencing a sensation akin to amaze- 
ment when he felt the warm rays of the sun 
upon his face. He glanced mechanically at 
the passers-by as he turned towards Central 
Park West. 

He went to the station, and purchased a 
ticket to Cedarhurst. 

Arrived at the villa, he hesitated, not know- 


262 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 


ing what to do next. Finally, he stole into the 
garden, and hid himself behind the wall. 

Raising his head, he saw that every window 
in the house was closed, whilst not a sound was 
to be heard. 

Danville remained thus for a long time. 
When anyone passed, a shudder darted 
through him. Presently he recognized his 
valet. Then, seeing himself discovered, he 
went towards the house. 

He opened the gate with a nervous gesture, 
and gazed with timid eyes along the garden 
paths. On the gravel he saw the marks of his 
own footsteps, made two days before when he 
had started for New York with Louise. 

The house had a curiously dismal air, and 
looked uninhabited. He entered. The cook 
came into the hall, and there was a note of sur- 
prise in her voice, as she asked : — 

“ Monsieur will be staying here to-day? 
Madame and Mademoiselle are still in New 
York? ” 

Danville listened mechanically, but did not 
reply; he only stood looking at the servant 
with eyes full of anxiety. 


DISCOVERY 263 

Then she had not returned to Cedarhurst 
either! 

He was afraid to enter the drawing-room. 
He bent forward in a listening attitude. He 
fancied he could hear a child’s footsteps over- 
head. 

He returned to the vestibule, his shoulders 
bent, his head bowed. And as the servant 
had gone out, he remained there, motionless, 
dreading lest one of the doors might suddenly 
open. 

Presently the cook returned. 

“ And Duncan? ” he asked in a feeble voice. 
It was so feeble that the woman did not hear 
him. 

“ And Mrs. Crawford? ” he inquired then, 
in a little louder voice. 

“Oh! yes, Monsieur; I was forgetting! 
She told me before she left to give her kindest 
regards to Monsieur.” 

“ Oh! and Duncan? ” 

“Poor Duncan! Madame was afraid he 
would soon grow tired of Philadelphia after 
Cedarhurst.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Danville again, turning pale. 


264 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ When did they go? ” he asked, with his 
eyes on the ground. 

“ Oh 1 they started at once. Monsieur 
Crawford got back here at five o’clock on 
Tuesday. Madame told me he had received 
a telegram from Philadelphia appointing him 
orchestra-conductor. I don’t know where. 
It was so urgent that all the packing was done 
by six o’clock, and they were all at the station 
by half-past. But surely Monsieur knew? 
Since Monsieur met Monsieur Crawford in 
New York the day before yesterday? Per- 
haps Monsieur has heard from them again? ” 
she ventured. 

Danville listened eagerly. 

So they had gone! He was in Philadel- 
phia with his wife and child — his wife, who 
had assuredly suspected nothing. 

Danville rose, breathing more freely. He 
no longer felt that dread of looking about 
him; the house seemed no longer to oppress 
him like a heavy weight. 

For a moment he remained with bowed 
head and unseeing eyes. Then he pulled 


DISCOVERY 265 

himself together, took his hat and stick, and 
went slowly towards the garden gate. 

“ Monsieur will not be dining here? ” 

He stood still. 

“ No,” he replied quietly, without turning 
his head ; and then went on again. 

“ Monsieur will be here again to-morrow? ■’ 
“Yes . . . perhaps . . . to-morrow.” 

“ Alone, Monsieur? ” 

“Yes; alone, I think!” 

He opened the gate, passed out into the 
street, and took the return train to New York. 


CHAPTER XV 

ALL IN VAIN 

The Moving Finger writes ; and having writ. 

Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit 
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, 

Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. 

Omar Khayyam . 

Two hours later he gave a discreet ring at his 
own apartment. 

The maid answered his summons. He 
dared not ask her if anyone had called during 
his absence, and passed slowly into his study. 

Silence reigned supreme. Louise ran to 
meet her father. “ Oh ! ” she said, “ it is you; 
I thought it was mamma.” 

He shuddered, the word made him feel as 
though every drop of blood had left his body. 
He looked at his daughter’s lips, as if to as- 
sure himself that those two syllables had not 
died away in their passage. 

266 


ALL IN VAIN 


267 

“ I am getting tired of being here, you 
know,” cried Louise. “ I should be happier 
in prison! ” 

“ Very well! We will go out! ” 

“ Our two selves? ” 

“ Yes.” 

She wound her delicate arms about his neck. 
And, suddenly revealing her beautiful blue 
eyes, full of tears, she pleaded, “ Oh ! do tell 
me where she is? ” 

Danville drew her head down upon his 
breast. 

“ Papa! where is she? What is she doing? 
Why doesn’t she come? ” 

His voice was almost drowned in a great 
sob, as he replied : — 

“ I don’t know.” 

Louise raised her head and stared at her 
father in terror. 

“ You don’t know? ” 

“ No, my little Louise.” 

And as the young girl’s face grew white as 
death, he took her hands in his, and murmured 
not daring to raise his eyes : — 

“ No, I don’t know at all. You must accus- 


268 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

tom yourself to a painful thought. . . . You 
must accustom . . 

“ Oh ! what do you mean? ” 

“ My little Louise. I love you dearly, 
dearly. Louise, you must not think that I 
want to give you pain. Oh ! no, no ! But — 
oh ! don’t listen to what I am going to tell you ! 
— Louise, be my brave, good girl. . . . Your 
mother ... is not at Cedarhurst; your 
mother is lost . . . your mother — ” 

The girl was staring at him in stupefaction, 
with wide-open eyes. She was so white that 
she scarcely seemed to live. Danville took 
her face between his hands, as if to prevent the 
words from entering her brain with too brutal, 
too sudden a shock. 

“Your mother may have met with a gang 
of ruffians — one never knows — the streets 
are full of rogues, and the police are badly or- 
ganized. There would be nothing astonish- 
ing in that.” 

He had raised his head. He was not look- 
ing at his daughter; he was speaking in a hard, 
metallic voice he did not recognize as his own. 

“ Oh! My God! ” cried Louise, “ and you 


ALL IN VAIN 269 

stay here, doing nothing! And you had told 
me nothing! Let us go and look for mamma. 
Quick — quick — we must enquire. Are you 
quite mad? Oh! My God! How long has 
she been lost? My God! My God! ” 

She hurried away to dress. She put on her 
hat. 

“Come, come now! Let us look for 
mamma! Oh! we must find her. Come!” 

She was crying as she ran. She went on to 
the balcony, and looked wildly about her in 
every direction. Then she went out at once, 
dragging her father with her. Danville al- 
lowed himself to be led. He consented to in- 
terview the police immediately; he consented 
to look closely at the people who were passing 
on foot and in carriages; he watched the tram- 
ways. 

The next day they went together to Cedar- 
hurst. Louise wandered through the garden, 
calling “ Mamma! mamma! ” in heartrending 
tones of appeal. Several days in succession 
they searched, they enquired, they appealed. 

It was all in vain. 

Once, at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 


270 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

Thirty-fourth Street, Louise thought she saw 
her mother. But the person who resembled 
her disappeared in the crowd before she could 
move. 

Then, in despair, the young girl asked her- 
self if she ought not to go into mourning. 

She spent her days in reading and weeping; 
she studied all the newspapers, but never a 
word did she find concerning the lost one. 
Neither did they receive any news from the 
police-station. 

Little by little Louise acquired the convic- 
tion that her mother was dead. 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE RECKONING 

O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray, 

To come to me: of cureless ills thou art 
The one physician. Pain lays not its touch 
Upon a corpse. 

iEsCHYLUS. 

A WEEK passed. Louis still went to Cedar- 
hurst once a day. He stooped a little, and 
scarcely spoke a word. 

One evening, when he was returning home, 
he saw a woman standing, motionless, at the 
corner of the street, apparently waiting for 
someone. She was dressed in black, and Dan- 
ville thought he recognized the outlines of her 
form. He passed close by and looked at her. 
Dusk was falling, and he was not sure if he 
knew her face. Soon, however, he heard the 
woman walking behind him. He continued 
his way. 


272 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

“ Louis ! ” said a feeble voice. 

Danville did not stop. '"He walked on at 
random, towards Central Park. 

“ Louis!” 

The woman in the black gown was not walk- 
ing behind Danville now ; she was at his side. 

“ Louis!” 

Danville entered the Park, turning rapidly 
down the first path he encountered on the right. 

“ Louis! will you let me see Louise? ” 

He looked at her then, and stood motion- 
less, feeling as though his limbs were giving 
way beneath him. 

Claudia had been afraid to return home 
after the terrible discovery, and knowing that 
Crawford had started for Philadelphia, she 
had taken a room in a hotel on Broadway. 
She had obtained some money from her 
lawyer, and had spent her days behind the 
drawn blind of her window, watching the 
street in the hope of seeing her daughter pass. 
And that evening, having seen her husband, 
she followed him, timidly, at a distance, like 
a very humble dog. 

She trembled a little beneath Danville’s 


THE RECKONING 273 

gaze, in this lonely, deserted path; she drew 
back a little, clasped her hands, and said again, 
in her sorrowful, timid voice : — 

“ Will you let me see Louise? ” 

He shook his head, without uttering a word, 
bent his head, and began to walk on again. 

It was cold. They heard the little leaves 
trembling in the dark shrubbery. 

Claudia still followed her husband; and 
once again came the plaintive murmur: — 

“ Won’t you let me see Louise? ” 

He walked on, keeping his eyes fixed upon 
the ground, compressing his lips, as if he 
feared some sound might escape them; he 
turned this way and that. 

Still Claudia followed. 

“ Louis ! ” 

He walked back to the entrance of the Park, 
and watched the long row of lamps light up. 
It began to rain. Claudia was approaching 
him once more ; she was almost at his side, and 
Danville saw her shrunken face, marred by 
the deep furrows of tears. And still, in the 
same imploring tone, she said : — 

“ Oh! will you let me see Louise? ” 


274 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

Without looking at her, still pursuing his 
way, he replied : — 

“ Louise believes you are dead.” 

He divined, rather than saw, that she had 
stood still, as he uttered the words. Without 
knowing where he was going, he turned into 
the carriage road which traversed the length 
of the Park. There was a sound of sobbing 
behind him. Nearer and nearer it drew, and 
he realized that she had overtaken him once 
more. 

“ Then you will never forgive me? ” 

He shook his head and walked on relent- 
lessly. 

Night had come. 

“ Then I shall never see Louise again? ” 

He walked straight ahead. 

The rain continued; a fine, cold, penetra- 
ting drizzle. 

“Never?” pleaded Claudia’s voice in the 
distance. 

On he went without a pause. 

The Park was utterly deserted now. 

“Louis!” 

He stopped. This was too much. He was 


THE RECKONING 275 

losing his reason. He thought he felt his 
throat contract as if to prevent his heart from 
rising to his lips. He turned and stared into 
the night. No voice called him now. He 
fancied he could discern the silhouette of a 
woman climbing the parapet of the bridge. 
He moved towards that vaguely-outlined 
form. He was weeping now, a burning, end- 
less rain of tears. He walked rapidly towards 
that vanishing shadow. 

Oh! Eighteen years of love, of peace, of 
happiness! Could thev be destroyed in one 
single hour? 

The silhouette seemed to run along the wall. 
He started to run in his turn, in the same di- 
rection. Oh! did the human code of morals 
exact it? Must those eighteen years of felic- 
ity be eternally forgotten? Must it be eter- 
nally remembered — that single hour of 
shame? Oh! she who had loved him so! 
She who had given him Louise. And he 
could have effaced these things from his 
memory, could have banished them from his 
heart! 

“Claudia!” he moaned, as he sped faster 


276 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

and faster in pursuit, “Oh! my Claudia of 
old!” 

And then he thought he saw the silhouette 
spring suddenly into the night. Then, as he 
looked again, with troubled eyes, he saw that 
the whole line of the wall was deserted. 

“Claudia!” he called in anguish. 

No one answered. On the other side of the 
wall the trees of the Park formed a great, dark 
shadow. There was no one there. 

With anxious eyes he ran along the lonely 
iBoulevard, occasionally stopping for a second 
to listen, and at last reached a place where he 
could leave the road and reach the gully be- 
low. 

He turned to the left, breathing hard. He 
hesitated, and, groping his way, descended in- 
to the darkness, traversed rapidly, though 
with difficulty, the length of the high wall, 
opening wide his frightened eyes. 

“ Claudia! ” he called in a gentle voice. 

It was very dark, and he stumbled over the 
rough ground. 

“ Claudia!” 

He thought he heard a cry ... a distant 


THE RECKONING 


277 

cry . . . He hurried on. The cry seemed 
to cease at his approach. 

“Claudia! Claudia!” he called, choking 
with sobs. 

And then a feeble voice answered him : — 

“ Louis . . ” 

He went towards that voice; he heard his 
own sobs making sonorous echoes in the night. 
He hastened his steps, staggering like a 
drunken man. There, lying motionless be- 
neath the bridge, he discovered a dark 
form. 

“Oh! my poor child! my poor, poor 
child ! ” he moaned, falling on his knees be- 
side the body. 

And taking her hands in his, he bent over 
the face of the mother of Louise. 

“ Oh! my Claudia, I forgive you! ” he mur- 
mured brokenly, his breast shaken with sobs. 

“ Louis! ” was all she said. 

She drew him towards her, painfully, with 
her left arm, and they wept for a moment, un- 
able to speak. 

Claudia could not move her limbs. She 
had broken her spine in her fall. 


278 THE FRUIT OF FOLLY 

With her still loving hands she clung to her 
husband’s neck. 

“ Louis, dear ... as my Louise believes I 
am dead . . . hide everything from her. Let 
her think that I have been attacked by thieves 
. . . and that they threw me over the wall. 
Then take all the money out of my purse ; the 
police will find me here, and our little girl 
will be told that I was the victim ... of an 
assault.” 

She could no longer speak; she was suffer- 
ing agonies. She uttered one last supreme 
cry, pressed her husband’s hand convulsively, 
and looked at him with wide-open eyes, where 
even now there lurked the shadow of death. 

And still she found strength to murmur : — 

“Will you kiss me . . . once? . . . Good- 
by, Louis. Say nothing to Louise . . . noth- 
ing .. . to my baby — .” 


THE END 


The Lure of the 

Flame 

By MARK DANGER 


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